


With You, I Belong

by lavenderlotion



Series: Belonging [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek Hale is a Bad Alpha, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Good Alpha Pack, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kisses, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pack Bonding, Pack Feels, Scent Marking, Scenting, Scott McCall is a Bad Friend, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles Has Panic Attacks, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Alpha Pack, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, Stilinski Family Feels, Tags Contain Spoilers, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-19 01:08:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11302614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: Despite Stiles doing all he can to help 'his' pack, they continue to toss him to the side. They undervalue and under appreciate him, and honestly, Stiles respects himself too much to let it continue.So he leaves. Well, technically he's kicked out - but still.But then the Alpha Pack shows up, and Deucalion is a constant presence by his side, and maybe, just maybe, they aren't all that evil after all.





	1. Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is all alone, and that, that isn’t something he knows how to handle. It doesn’t help that he’s trying his best, trying desperately to be enough for people who don’t care about him, who don’t even want him. He’s - he’s _done_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: you might be thinking, what the fuck is going on? WELL YOU SEE i decided to rewrite this entire fic (don't ask me why I have no idea!!). Originally, the chapters were all over place. Going from 900 words to 3k, there was no uniformity, and I just wasn't happy with the amount of effort I put into some of these stories. Now though?? Well, now I am much happier! The rewrite will follow the same plot and story line but will have MUCH MORE CONTENT! I'm very excited for it, and I hope you enjoy the new updates!
> 
> chapter beta'd by [thegirlwhoknits!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwhoknits/pseuds/thegirlwhoknits)
> 
> see end for warnings
> 
>  **lovely art based of this fic:**  
> [stiles inspired mood board](https://merakiteriyaki.tumblr.com/post/169065473521/he-looked-as-though-the-moons-light-was-placed#notes)  
> .  
> [deucalion inspired mood board](https://merakiteriyaki.tumblr.com/post/169087456056/deucalion-smiled-softly-at-that-the-expression)

The saddest part, in his own opinion, was that he didn’t notice right away. He and Scott had already begun drifting apart, spending less and less time together until they were no longer  _ ScottandStiles,  _ and hardly even best friends. Then there was the Gerard incident, where his ‘best friend’ didn’t think to ask about his black eye, or bruised ribs, or split lip. Scott never once noticed how much pain Stiles was in, even though he now had the ability to  _ smell _ it—smell the still open cuts and the blood that sluggishly made its way through Stiles’ half-assed bandaging job. 

And not one person questioned him about where he had been during the Kanima incident. Instead, Jackson had joked about it, joked that Stiles had just gotten scared and run off after all the lights went out. 

But Stiles had never been afraid of the dark. He  _ was _ afraid of monsters who hid behind human faces. He was scared of damaged teens and hunters and old men. It wasn’t Peter in his Alpha form who tied him up, beat him, and then did worse just because  _ ‘your screaming is so pretty’. _ It wasn’t Jackson, but the Kanima’s master who made the decision to kill the mechanic and the police officers, to spread death wherever he pleased.

Stiles was scared of humans. They were always the ones behind the monster's mask, anyway.

The point was, he wasn’t sure he could call Scott his friend any longer. It was late September in their junior year, and there was the Alpha pack, and someone killing people, and Stiles was trying to be okay with the fact that Scott had ignored him for most of the summer. The pack had been trying to find Boyd and Erica, and Stiles, being mostly human, couldn’t just sniff them out. 

He’d tried using his spark to help, but that didn’t really work. He still hadn’t been powerful enough to do much, other than simple levitation and the manipulation of mountain ash, despite his constant efforts to better himself. It was a slow, strenuous process that often left Stiles rung out and dry-heaving into his toilet. It was neither fun nor all that productive, but working himself to the point where he passed out on the cool tile floor of his bathroom at least made him feel like he was doing something. 

It didn’t seem to matter how hard he was trying, because he hadn’t even seen Scott since the night he was kidnapped and his entire life changed. The other boy suddenly had other, more important priorities. The pack was busy and Stiles understood that, understood that there was only so much he could do given his humanity, something the others weren’t held back by. He was holding out hope that Scott would fix everything, that it would all go back to normal.

He’d always been particularly naive when it came to the things he put hope into.

School started back up, and suddenly Scott was sitting with the  _ pack _ everyday, with all of _ them _ . Stiles quickly found that the pack table no longer held a spot for him, as though he’d been forgotten. It didn’t seem to matter that he’d been training his spark, practicing to become their Emissary. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t been working himself to the point of exhaustion nearly each day that summer so that he could be faster, and stronger, and better. He hadn’t even the chance to prove himself.

Apparently, they didn’t care. 

So he walked away. He walked away and tried to ignore how alone he felt. It—it could have been worse; he could have truly had no one. He had his dad again, something he would forever be thankful for. Finding the man passed out drunk after school had been so horribly reminiscent of the period of grief and longing after his mother’s death that for a horrible moment he was terrified. He’d done all he could do at the time: helped the man up to bed and poured out the rest of the liquor.

The next morning, he broke. He told his dad everything he could, everything he had  _ needed to _ for so long. He couldn't risk losing his only parent over something as simple as the truth, so Stiles told him everything. He started with the Hale fire, laying out all the information he could in hopes that his solid knowledge of the act would convince his father that what he was saying was the truth.

That night he curled up in his father's bed, breathing in his  _ dad _ —gun oil and Old Spice and  _ safety _ —and cuddling close, sleeping in the same bed for the first time since he was ten and his mother had first gotten sick.

Once his dad knew, their relationship very quickly reverted to the way it had been before—dependable and strong. For so long they had been close, just the two of them against the world. Especially after his dad had dug himself out of the bottle and they’d been closer than ever, holding tight after nearly losing one another. The space between them had only began widening when Scott got bit, when Stiles had to lock away an entire part of his life for his father's safety, and it had clearly weighed on them.

Now... Now Stiles felt light. 

He once again spent long afternoons in the station, curling up on the couch his father kept in his office, or wandering the halls, checking in with the deputies who were still alive. The station was still a place of comfort, still felt like home whenever he walked in. The bitter smell of burnt coffee once again a constant in his life. This station had once kept him alive—the year after his mother died, Stiles had been taken care of by these people, when his father was still too broken to do so. 

So it had felt  _ good _ to be back. Right. For the first month of school he spent nearly all his free time researching. Derek had said they didn’t know anything about the ‘Alpha Pack,’ so Stiles made it a point to find out all that he could. If he couldn’t help with sniffing out Erica and Boyd, he would sure as  _ hell _ make sure that he was doing something. He wouldn’t let them call him useless again, wouldn’t let them discredit him as ‘only human.’ 

So he looked into everything he could: he called packs in the area, made a map of places the Alpha pack had traveled to, and put together a timeline of basic information. He talked to Peter and Chris (he’s not Gerard, he’s not Gerard,  _ he is not Gerard _ ), and only ever met either man in highly populated, public places. He wasn’t paranoid, but he would never set foot in the Argents’ home again.

Stiles still had nightmares. Even now, four months later, he woke screaming and thrashing and needing help that he never got. On the nights his dad was home, the man would hold him tight against his chest as he cried. It - it helped. His father smelt like safety, and the shape of his arms around him was familiar enough that it kept the memories at bay, where the darkness allowed them to creep in and take hold.

He still didn’t sleep nearly enough, but it was far better than those first few weeks, when he would wake sobbing, nails digging into his skin as he clawed away Gerard's touch—fighting with himself to push down the bile that always rose in his throat.

It was better now, with his dad, and some nights he was able to fall back asleep. The nights he couldn’t, he continued his research. Learning to navigate the supernatural world came surprisingly easy after a little practice. First, he had mapped out everywhere the Alpha Pack had been seen for the last few years. They moved around often, visiting different territories seemingly at random. Sometimes they stayed and made ‘peaceful’ treaties, other times they wiped out entire packs.

Soon enough he knew who each member was, where they came from, and what they’d been through. He ranked how deadly they were, the way they fought, and how to best them. In three weeks he’d gathered so much research on the pack he felt as though he personally knew them. It was something he could take to Derek and say,  _ ‘I did this, I hold value, let me into your fucking pack’ _ . 

He was trying. Even if he couldn’t find his missing packmates, he could sure as hell still be useful, still show that his humanity did not make him worth  _ less _ . 

He was probably killing himself, letting his body waste away and working it to the point of insanity. He didn’t care. Didn’t care that sometimes he got dizzy when standing, or sometimes his vision would turn blurry. He was helping. In his way.

That’s what he’d thought, anyway, until a Tuesday night near the end of September. He had just visited his mother's grave, alone. It was something he’d never done by himself before, always readily accompanied by Scott. The first few years Scott had to set the flowers into the vase himself, Stiles’ hand shaking too violently for him to do it. The first time he was able to, Scott held him as Stiles sobbed into his shirt.

Scott had always been by his side when Stiles needed him. And he did need Scott. Even if they were now hardly friends, let alone anything resembling brothers. Even if it was only Melissa he received a text from, the other boy apparently having forgotten. Stiles still needed Scott, perhaps always would—at least one day of the year.

But Scott wasn't there, so instead of going home to an empty house and old memories and suffocating silence, he grabbed his folder full of three weeks of research and headed to Derek’s loft. 

* * *

Stiles took a deep, calming breath. The stairs had been a little too much, and he was gasping for air, chest burning and stomach empty. He wanted to throw up from the exertion, his body physically rebelling against moving further for a few moments. He knew it had been a long time since he’d eaten, maybe even longer since he’d slept, but he hadn’t quite realized just  _ how _ long until this moment.

When he was able to walk, he knocked on the large metal door of the loft before pulling it open. He called out Derek’s name as he stepped through the entryway, stopping abruptly when he looked up. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, really. 

None of Derek’s previous hideouts had been anything even remotely habitable, but this place wasn’t awful. What made him stop was not the three couches or the kitchen, but the pack. The entire pack was there, sitting inside what had to be the ‘living room’. Derek was in an armchair on his own; Scott, Allison and Isaac were curled up together on a couch; Lydia and Jackson on a loveseat; and Peter—alone, head down—was on the stairs. 

Stiles was absolutely taken aback. 

Not only had Scott forgotten what  _ fucking day it was, _ he was  _ here _ . He was with  _ his _ pack and clearly this pack was more important than his brother, or else Scott would have been with Stiles when he laid fresh flowers on his mother's grave. Stiles had known they’d all gotten closer, hadn’t been ignorant to their growing friendship, but Stiles hadn’t realized it was like this.

He hadn’t realized it was movie nights, or cuddling close on the couch. Sharing spaces outside of class, choosing to spend time together. He hadn’t realized it were more than finding their missing packmates, more than instincts or survival taking over to group them together, gather their strength and keep it close.

Stiles tried to swallow down the bile that was rising in his throat, tried to choke back the angry sob he wanted to let out. Instead, he squared his shoulders and cleared his throat, throwing the most murderous glare he could muster at Scott before turning back to Derek. “I have some pretty useful information.”

“Is it about Erica and Boyd?” Derek asked, words clipped and short.

“No, but you should look a-”

“I don’t need you wasting my time, Stiles.” Derek said. He sounded put upon, as though dealing with Stiles were the most exhausting thing one could do in a day.

“Look, you should seriously read thi-”

“Dude, why are you even here?” Jackson said from his spot beside Lydia, sneering at Stiles.

“I’ve been doing a lot of research, and I really fou-”

“Well can you leave?” Jackson snapped, tone all too familiar. The boy had bullied Stiles for years, and it apparently never stopped.

“Derek, ca-.”

“This is a pack meeting.” Isaac cut in, looking about as revolted with Stiles’ presence as Jackson had, “You need to leave.”

What hurt the most was that no one argued. Not Allison, whom he had been nothing but nice to. Not Derek, whose life he had save—held him afloat in a swimming pool for  _ hours _ —when it would have been easier to leave. Not Lydia, who he had seen before anyone else, recognize her for the value she truly held. Not Isaac, the boy who Stiles had been offering his help to  _ for years _ because no one else saw the bruises or the twitching of his fingers—no, not Isaac, as he was the one telling him to leave.

And not, not Scott. His brother, his best friend for  _ so long _ . He’d been the one person Stiles always knew he would have, right after his dad. Scott had been so much to him, had meant so much to him that Stiles often hadn’t known how to articulate it. And Stiles had always thought their bond went both ways. Now he’s never felt more wrong.

It makes something bright and hot flare in his chest. He’s not sure if he wants to cry or yell in indignation, but he’s furious. He’s furious because he gave himself to this pack, far more intimately than he ever would have liked. He was taken by Gerard  _ because of this pack _ . Taken and tied up and, and—and more than Stiles is willing to think about. These people took so much from him, much more than he was ever willing to give for them. 

And he knows better. He knows that he doesn’t deserve this, that he deserves  _ far  _ more. He doesn’t deserve to be looked down on, to be treated as though he is lesser. Insignificant. He had done too much for them, from the beginning. He had killed Peter for them, took a life for most of the people in this room, and he was still thrown aside.

And then he had kept giving, gave his relationship with his father, his energy, his time. He had given all that he was, let them use him when needed. Then he had learned magic, pushed his body to the point of breaking only to toy with the edge, nearly falling over. And he had gotten nothing in return.

It feels a little like heartbreak.

But he wouldn’t show them weakness. Not when they’re no longer on his side. He held it in, squared his shoulders and stamped down hard on his magic where it was soaring high in his chest, bright and wonderful, his control so much better than it once was. He was a flurry of betrayal, and anger and hurt and abandonment, and his magic wanted to strike out in response.

But he didn’t let it show, couldn’t. He marched to Peter, the only person looking at least a little annoyed at the treatment Stiles was being given. In fact he looked quite murderous, and Stiles was silently thankful. Thankful that he had  _ someone _ . He didn’t even mind that it was Peter of all people; hell, Stiles secretly liked the man. 

It helped that he found Peter almost completely justified for what he’d done. Sometimes you run out of options. Sometimes things were no longer black and white, and the world often existed in brilliant shades of grey. He could  _ understand  _ where the man came from, to have his entire family ripped away from him so violently. If someone killed his father he would burn the world down in his fury.

So he walked towards Peter, as calmly as he could with his blood boiling and his magic raging, and handed the man the thick folder he’d brought with him.

“This is the Alpha Pack. Who they are, what they do, how they fight and what they want from us. It’s  _ everything _ on them.” Stiles said, his voice was low and weak but Peter still heard. Sure, the rest of the pack did too, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“You are quite the wonder, little spark.” Peter said, and maybe Stiles shouldn’t be as flattered as he was by the compliment, but a flush settled across his cheeks. He knew Peter didn’t waste words or throw around empty compliments, knew that that meant the man's words were genuine. He didn’t even question how Peter knew about his magic. For all Stiles knew, the man could have smelled it.

“Is your father going to be home this evening?”

“Uh no?” Stiles said, voice tilting at the end in question.

“You shouldn’t be alone with your grief, especially after what happened with  _ them _ .” Peter’s voice was low, giving Stiles the illusion of privacy even though he knew it was false. Stiles did snort, however, when Peter spit out the last word like it tasted bad. 

“I’ll be okay,” Stiles said with a small smile, having to bite his lip to stop himself from beaming. He frankly had no idea how Peter knew what today was, but it meant more than he could express, though he tries anyway. 

“Thank you.” And maybe Peter understood what he meant, because the man offered him a small smile and a nod, looking down to the folder in his hands and already beginning to flip through it.

Then, like everyone seemed to want, Stiles left. 

He didn’t do more than take shallow breaths until after he’d driven away. He was still too raw, his emotions running their course. Thunder rumbled overhead. Lightning flashed and struck beside his Jeep, bright white, and he slammed his brakes, skidding to a stop. He breathed deep, watching in fascination as lightning struck again, his headlights shining bright onto the now-burned patch of grass in front of him.

And then—and then Stiles screamed. He let out his fury, his  _ hurt _ . He yelled until his throat was raw, chest heaving with the air he was pulling in. Thunder rumbled once again, louder and longer than he’d ever heard before. The rain slowed, slowly tapering until it was nothing more than a light shower, the gentle tap-tap helping to calm his heartbeat.

He breathed deeply again, looking at his phone when it pinged. He opened it to a text from Peter, and the words made his gut twist in pleasure, the praise of the words making him feel high.  _ ‘You are miraculous.’ _ stared back at him, and it felt warm, the same way his father's arms did when he was held close, how his mother's praise used to feel. He smiled, infinitely thankful that he seemed to have this man on his side.

Stiles turned his keys, fingers still shaking around his steering wheel as the familiar drain that came with using magic slowly began to settle. He was thankful the loft was close, still having to focus hard on the drive home. When he did arrive, he collapsed onto his bed nearly immediately, thankful his father appeared to home and asleep—the bottle of whisky still more than half full where it sat in the kitchen.

Stiles head hit the pillow, and blessed sleep took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mention of rape.  
> so this rewrite will be posted once a week! i just finished the third chapter, so i am a little ahead and will be able to just focus on writing. I have so kinda sad news as well! if you follow some of my other fics, I'm sorry to say that I Built My Home Inside Of You & Gone and Past are being put on hiatus. I had too many fics going at once, too many that I was trying to post weekly and that I was stressing myself out over. It got to the point where I couldn't handle it, so I took last week off posting and am back!  
> This Fic will have weekly updates (posted Saturdays), as well as the weekly updates for Give Me Family (posted Sundays) will continue
> 
> I really hope you guys like the rewrite. I wanted it to be something that I was proud of posting and could put my full attention into working on, which is why i trimmed the fics i'm currently working on. Just so you guys now, I am currently working on two Steter fics as well as a Stiles/OMC fic! they are all going to be longer, potentially multi-chapter fics but unlike this one, I will completely finish writing them before I begin posting :)
> 
> So a little about this chapter!! i really just wanted to expand a little on what i had originally wrote - giving us a little bit more insight into stiles life and what he's thinking/feeling. that's what most of this rewrite will be actually. yes, here and there i will be adding additional scenes, but most of this will be just adding a larger insight into stiles mind and how he is/is not feeling. i am very excited to be doing this, and am so far having a lot of fun. 
> 
> with only having two stories to worry about updating weekly, i can make sure that I am putting large amounts of my time into each and every chapter and that i will never have to frantically scramble the night before to produce content. i hate missing updates, it makes me freally upset with myself and i just do /not/ like doing it. hopefully now, it won't be something that i have to worry about and will be able to solely focus on enjoying what i write - as well as trying to figure out a possible ending for this fic cause i have NO IDEA what's about to happen LOL FUCK !!!  
> anyway, i hope you enjoy and keep reading, and that you aren't disappointed that instead of a new chapter you're 'stuck' with this. I promise, chapter two and three are PACKED with new content, so it'll be worth it !!!
> 
> [my tumblr!!!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


	2. It'll Be Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sad night for Stiles, followed by a healthy does of Stilinski hugs to make it all better! A little bit of John’s POV and, a surprise from our favorite creeper wolf!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter beta'd by [thegirlwhoknits!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwhoknits/pseuds/thegirlwhoknits)

That night Stiles went home feeling more alone than he had since his father fell into a bottle.

And it wasn’t true. He knew he wasn’t nearly as alone as he was then, reeling from the loss of his mother and dealing with the abandonment of his father. It was worse then. But it was easy to compare the hollow feeling in his chest, how tight his ribcage felt, like there was no way he could possibly contain so much hurt. It still felt like heartbreak. 

It was better when he thought about his dad. Stiles had him again, had his father firmly in his corner, and knew the man wasn’t going anywhere. It was refreshing to be so sure about their relationship after the last year. He’d been so sure he would lose the man by telling him, but all telling his dad had done was bring them even closer together. Their relationship once again had a foundation of trust and honesty, and it was perhaps stronger than it had ever been.

There was Peter, too. Stiles was still a little surprised that the wolf was so kind to him, that the man accepted his research without question - not to mention the compliments he’d been paid. He hadn’t been around much since Peter came back; in fact he’d only seen the man a handful of times around town since he resurrected himself. 

But Stiles thought about the way Peter was sitting in the loft, blatantly away from everyone else, and it wasn’t like anybody was making an effort to get him closer. The man might honestly be just as lonely as Stiles. Stiles wasn’t sure about Derek, but he knew Scott—and in turn the rest of the teenaged wolves—wouldn’t be quick to forgive. 

Even knowing he had the two men in his corner didn’t drive out how  _ empty _ he felt, like something inside of him had been stolen away. It was probably the barely-there pack bonds he used to have. Although he’d never noticed them when he had them, he was surely noticing the  _ absence _ of them. 

It  _ hurt _ , left him gasping for breath where he curled up on his bed, cocooned in his blankets. He didn’t bother getting undressed, just fell onto his bed and rolled the blankets tight around his body before curling up, letting himself weep. He felt helpless and weak, tiny and small and beyond insignificant. He couldn’t pretend that he and Scott were fine anymore, not after tonight. 

He cried until he fell asleep, letting all that he had pushed away for so long come to the surface. He cried for the pack that no longer cared for him, maybe  _ never _ cared for him. It was a familiar feeling, one he remembered from when he was thirteen and his father was at work again, and he had to make dinner for himself again, and put himself to bed again. He felt like he did when it had been so long since his father last hugged him he could no longer remember the last time it happened.

Stiles cried for the friends he’d thought he had, but for himself, too. Not a day went by that he forgot what Gerard took from him in the name of the pack, that he forgot what he’d lost. He doesn’t think he’ll  _ ever _ forget, and the pack doesn’t even know—they have no idea how much Stiles has truly given for them. 

He was no longer untouched, no longer  _ clean _ . He felt dirty, sullied by what the man did, by what he took. 

And he wasn’t even sure whether he blamed the pack or not. He knew that it would be unfair to do so, especially when he had Gerard to focus his anger on. It was just—it was just that they never cared enough to check, never tried to make sure he was okay. It’s that  _ no one came _ . It was that Allison was there and  _ knew _ —to some extent—and let it happen. It was that the man was still  _ alive _ , and Stiles had no idea how he was supposed to feel safe, knowing that. 

But he also didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t know what to do without a brother or an Alpha or any friends. So he cried, let himself get out as much of the hurt he was feeling as he could, and hope that in the morning he’d be able to breathe easier. 

Hoped that in the morning, maybe he wouldn't care as much.

* * *

When Stiles finally woke, he had one blissful moment in which he was still trying to shake his dream. It had been him and his dad and a Mets game, and he woke up still smiling. The grin on his face fell once he was coherent enough to realize he was only wearing one shoe, that his jeans were halfway down his thighs and his eyes were still sore from crying.

He stumbled out of his bed, tripping on the comforter and shoving off his jeans. He made it to the bathroom but didn’t quite manage to remove his shirt or underwear before stepping under the spray of his shower, chest still feeling too tight to bother undressing. He didn’t want to think about it. It was still too fresh; his heart felt entirely too heavy as he hung his head under the spray.

He could still feel the void where his pack bonds once sat—weak and barely there, but  _ real _ . Now that they were gone, the loss was jarring. Stiles just felt lucky that he was a Spark. He couldn’t even imagine what that hollowness would feel if he had been a wolf, or any other kind of pack-orientated were. Couldn't imagine what would have happened if the pack bonds had been stronger, had been more than just fickle things he hardly felt.

It was the first time he’d been truly thankful for his humanity. 

Stiles choked back a sob, letting himself drop in the shower until he was sitting under the spray. He pulled off his shirt and one sock, letting the steady thrum of water against the back of his neck lull him into a soft calm. He was hurting,  _ fuck  _ was he hurting. He wasn’t sure how to make it stop, how to lessen the tightness in his chest.

It just hurt. He knew it was stupid to let a group of people have so much power over him,  _ especially  _ a group who didn’t care for him, who had tossed him aside so carelessly. Before he could talk himself out of it, a knock sounded at the door, his father’s soft voice asking if he was alright. It helped to settle him, just a little, to know his dad was right outside the door.

So he held in a whimper, standing instead, wrapping himself in a towel and placing his soaked clothes in the sink. He opened the door slowly, watching as the wall of steam rushed out of the bathroom and towards his father where the man stood just outside the door. He was in a new uniform, shirt still unbuttoned over his white tank. He looked tired, but he had a small smile on his face.

Stiles fell into him.

The first sob was a surprise, because he hadn’t expected to start crying, at least not then. His father just held him close, not even asking what was wrong but offering him support nonetheless. He loved the man for it, for the endless support he had shown since finding about the supernatural. Stiles still has no idea why he ever worried so much, how he ever thought his father would be anything other than accepting.

So he let himself cry for another moment, his father smelling like Old Spice and gun oil and  _ home _ . It was familiar and beyond comforting, and just the man's scent alone helped to calm him, the soothing circles rubbed into his back helping him get his breath under control. 

Stiles stayed like that longer than he needed to, letting his father's hold bring him comfort. He felt too small, too young. He hadn't needed to be held like this for so long, not since his father stopped drinking and Stiles would have panic attacks about him starting up again, terrified his father would choose to leave him all over. 

It was nice, though. His father was warm, still tall enough for Stiles to tuck himself against the man's chest, and if he had to curl his spine a little to place his head under his dad's chin, it was fine. It was about feeling safe, protected. It was exactly what he needed right now, and thankfully his father made no move to stop him.

* * *

The sheriff took it hard. In fact, the man was furious, all but shaking in his seat when he heard that his son had been alone on the day of his wife's death. God, if he had  _ known _ . He never had to worry too much about his son, usually being able to focus on his own grief on the day.

John had always been secure in the knowledge that his son would have Scott, that he would have someone there for him so he could focus on not drowning his sorrows in liquor. It was easier each year he’d been sober, and he was getting better, noticeably so. Yesterday he had even considered coming home from work early and spending the evening with his son.

In the end, he’d decided against it, knowing that his boy and Scott always curled up together early, Stiles taking something to help him fall asleep and end the day as soon as he could. So hearing this—hearing that his son had been all alone? It had him reaching for his service pistol before he was even fully aware of his actions. He was ready to shoot, to  _ hurt _ the boy he had considered a second son. 

But then to find out that he’d not only been forgotten, but had been so carelessly tossed aside, had him shaking all over again. He watched his son pour all of himself into research for the pack, ignoring his own health, risking it to help those  _ mutts _ . Watched as his son faded away for  _ months _ trying to help. Not only was he wearing himself too thin with his research, but John knew how much his magical practice had first taken from the boy. 

Stiles was busting his ass researching, contacting other packs and spending hours a night awake, finding out everything he could about this potential threat. He was also pushing himself hard in his training; likely  _ too far _ , if the growing darkness under his eyes and the ever-increasing hollowness of his cheeks were anything to go by. 

It was another thing that Stiles was doing for the pack, something else his boy was doing for those  _ people _ , people who in the end didn’t even care about him. John had watched for months as Stiles threw away his health, and in the end it had been for nothing.

So really, John was furious. He wanted to do  _ something _ . He needed to do something, anything to try and right the wrong that was committed against his little boy. Ever since finding out about the supernatural, finding out about how much Stiles had been through, he’d hated himself. He wasn’t there, wasn’t there for his son  _ again _ . He left his boy alone, left him to face an entire world that John had never even known about. How was he supposed to deal with something like that?

Hell, he was the damn sheriff, it was his job to protect the town, and he couldn’t even protect his own _family_! He’d been furious with himself—was still furious with himself—over his inability to do his damn job. He was furious with the pack, with everyone who hurt his son, and he was all but bursting with the need to hurt, to _act_. 

But then he looked back at Stiles, who was so close to tears, fighting them off with everything he had, and the sheriff crumbled. He shoved down his anger and instead pulled the boy close, holding him tight and for a long time, letting each of them gain some semblance of emotional control before letting go. 

And then the doorbell rang.

* * *

Peter Hale waltzed past Stiles and into his home without so much as a ‘by your leave.’ The Spark wasn’t exactly sure why that surprised him, since it was  _ Peter _ and really one could ask why Peter did anything. Still, Stiles was left looking at the open door with something akin to shock on his face, hand still fisted around the doorknob where he had pulled it open just enough for the wolf to slip his way in.

The sound of his dad's laugh surprised him enough that he snapped back to the present, closing the door and slowly making his way down the hall. His dad was leaning against the counter, head thrown back as he chuckled at something the wolf said. The same wolf who seemed to be  _ blushing _ , if the slight tint high on his cheeks was anything to go by. Stiles decided that seven-thirty was far too early to deal with  _ that _ , and instead zeroed in on the grease-stained paper bag sitting on his counter.

“Son, Peter brought coffee and doughnuts,” His dad told him, still smiling. And yep, that was totally a blush on Peter’s face.

“I didn’t realize you two knew each other?” Stiles asked, subtly trying to pry while grabbing his coffee. If the glare Peter threw his way was anything to go by, he was failing at being subtle.

“Oh we do,” His dad said, grabbing the bag of _greasy_ _doughnuts_ before Stiles could steal them away. “When I was just a deputy and Peter was in his teens, he used to get in a lot of trouble.” 

“Oh now, now, I would hardly say  _ a lot _ of trouble,” the man drawled, flashing a smile to John. “None of the charges ever stuck, after all.” 

Which, for some reason made his  _ dad _ blush, and that was about all Stiles could take. He crossed his arms and turned to Peter head-on, looking as unamused as he possibly could while asking, “What are you doing here, Peter?”

“Well, I came by to check on you,” Peter answered, continuing at the quirk of Stiles’ brow, “No, really. You are the closest thing I have to pack, Stiles, and I intend to make sure our bond stays strong.” 

Stiles calmed at that, sending the man a small smile and taking the offered coffee, moaning at the sweetness of his usual order. “I also wanted to compliment your work, Stiles. Your research was wonderful, and I can only imagine how much you went through to get it.” 

Stiles flushed at that, grinning happily even as his dad muttered, “Far too much.” 

He sent the man a glare, because yeah,  _ now _ he knew that he put way too much energy into a pack that didn’t deserve it, but that didn’t mean he felt like that at the time, and his father's ‘subtle’ digs were really only just bringing up the hurt feelings that Stiles was trying to ignore. He settled at the island’s counter, sitting on the bar stool next to Peter.

“How did you get all of it?” the wolf asked, and Stiles just sighed at first. 

“Let’s just say it was a lot of fucking work,” Stiles muttered, letting his spark hum under his skin, pulling it a little closer to the surface and sucking up the comfort that the action brought. “I have contacted so many packs I couldn’t even tell you the number. I have no idea how many Alphas I’ve spoken to in the last month. I took everything they told me, cross-checked it, and put it all together. If a certain piece of information didn’t check out from least three sources, I didn’t trust it.”

Peter nodded, his eyebrows drawn together as he considered. “Alright, but there’s information in there that werewolves wouldn’t have. There are four pages detailing how the wolves fight, in such bland, technical terms that there’s no way the information could have came from a wolf.” 

“I didn’t just talk to wolves,” Stiles admitted, breathing out a long sigh. “I talked to hunters, other supernaturals. I also talked to a few witches; got in contact with some old and established covens.”

“Wait, what’s this about other witches? I thought you said letting anyone know about your magic could be dangerous?” John asked, leaning forward on the counter and raising a brow.

“Yeah, and I didn’t. C’mon Dad, you didn’t think I was selling so many extra essays for lunch money?”

“Stiles, did yo-”

“Did you  _ buy _ information from a witch coven?” Peter all but screeched, reeling back in his chair as if the topic actually burned him. And really, all Stiles could do was nod.

He knew it could have been bad, alright? He’d read books and heard stories about Witch covens. They weren’t exactly...nice. They didn’t do favours, they didn’t help out. Hell, oftentimes they didn’t even  _ communicate _ with the supernatural community as a whole. Witches were incredibly solitary beings,  _ always  _ on their own, save for their coven. 

And then there were the covens themselves. Not things to get mixed up with, that was for damn sure. They were dangerous and selfish, and usually just cared for power. Witches on their own? Usually no problem. Witches in a coven, watch the fuck out. 

“You, my dear boy, are wonderfully reckless,” Peter said, squeezing the back of the Stiles’ neck before sipping his coffee. “I am absolutely impressed.”

Stiles smiled slightly, flushing a little under the praise. He was still grinning when he caught sight of the time. If he doesn’t head for school soon he'd be late, and he wasn’t about to show any bit of weakness to his old pack. So he bounced to his feet, stealing the greasy bag of doughnuts from in front of his dad as he pressed a kiss to the man's cheek, stopping in front of Peter and letting the wolf rub his chin against Stiles’ neck. Stiles nuzzled the top of Peter’s head in response.

Reluctantly he walked out of the house, leaving his dad alone with Peter to continue their reminiscing—since apparently they were old friends? With an incredibly put-upon sigh, one that Peter surely would be able to hear all the way inside, Stiles climbed into the front seat of his Jeep, letting his head rest on the steering wheel for a moment. He was fine, he could  _ do this _ . If the pack didn’t want him anymore, then fuck them. 

Throwing his jeep in reverse, Stiles pulled out of his driveway, letting out another long-suffering sigh when he realized he forgot his coffee. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow-za! way to add a whole bunch of content! this is honestly where the story starts to change - in fact half of the next chapter is completely new content! i'm actually pretty excited! i finished chapter 4 the other day and am moving around some scenes! one thing i really want to do in the rewrite is slow the progression of deucalion's and stiles' relationship. i'll most likely focus a little more on the pack bonding as well! 
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! i am having a lot of fun writing this story, and am really excited to finish the rewrite and start writing new content for it! with this chapter, i really wanted to focus on how stiles was feeling, as well as build up peter and john's relationship a little. i love those two as a pairing (when i'm not writing steter anyway) and am happy with how a lot of it came out. the ending of this chapter killed me, and i had to rewrite it a few times before it worked out and didn't sound totally awful, lol. if there is anything you want to see in this story, seriously add it in the comments or message me on tumblr! i love incorporating reader ideas into my story, and it also really helps if i ever get stuck! 
> 
> also, if you guys have heard of SteterNetwork Monthly Prompt then hang on, cause I'm writing one! it should be up sometime next week (hopefully). while i love working on these longer fics, writing oneshots is always a blast! frankly, i have no idea what i'm even doing with the prompt, like it's completely getting out of hand, but whatever lol!
> 
> as always thank you for reading! until next week!!!
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr!!!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


	3. My Nephew Is An Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day at school after being abandoned, mediating, quitting lacrosse oh my! Also, magic, yay! Also, is that the Sheriff and Peter flirting? Yes, yes it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you, as always, to my beta's!

On a normal day, Stiles would be  _ fine _ with forgetting his coffee. It wouldn’t matter nearly so much. Except today he is  _ exhausted  _ and he honestly isn’t sure that he’ll physically be able to make it through his day. There is also the fact that Stiles isn’t sure what today is even going to be like. 

It’s only Wednesday, only midway through the week. He can’t - he can’t remember the last time he was this tired, even right after everything with Gerard and he was unable to sleep more than an hour at a time before he was waking with a scream, kicking and crying out for the man to  _ get off _ .

So instead of heading straight to school like he  _ should, _ he stops to get a coffee. Beacon Hills Brews is one of his favorite places and the owner is a small elderly lady who currently has blue hair. She is probably Stiles’ favorite person and is  _ awesome _ . 

She used to make Stiles special hot chocolate, topped with so much whipped cream that he’d have to eat some with a spoon before he could even  _ think _ of taking a proper sip. Now, he comes for the cheap coffee and lives for the ‘hipster/college student’ vibe that the place has.

Not that Beacon Hills even  _ has _ a hipster/college student clique, but if they  _ did, _ this is where they would get their coffee. 

He’s in and out much faster that he planned to be, so he drives a little under the speed limit the rest of the way to school. It isn’t so much that he’s scared of the pack, because he’s  _ not _ . He’s secure in his ability to protect himself, especially with the wolfsbane he has in his pocket. 

His spark is getting stronger. Telling his father about the supernatural released a huge weight from his shoulders. The guilt had been weighing on him so heavy for so long that he had just gotten used to it, hadn’t realized just how much it had been crippling it had been. The last few weeks he had felt lighter than he had in years, even before the supernatural came into his life. 

Ever since he told his dad his magic has been more - receptive. Without having the added stress of lying to his only family he was able to focus more on his magic. His simple exercises that used to exhaust him now came with ease. 

He was especially good at forming mountain ash circles. 

So he wasn’t scared of the pack  _ doing _ anything. He can feel his spark shining bright inside his chest and while he knows he may not able to  _ do _ much, not yet, it’s still there, the potential is still there. Besides, the pack is made up of baby wolves who can hardly control their own shift. The only member he is actually scared of is Allison and maybe,  _ maybe  _ Derek.

It’s more so the - emotional aspect. Everything he has done on a day-to-day basis is product of the pack. He orbits around them despite having been an omega for much longer than he is willing to admit. It’s not that he spends an ample amount of time with them - because he  _ doesn’t _ , not anymore. He doesn’t sit with them at lunch, or walk with them in the halls. He doesn’t text them or call them or talk to them.

He - he lost them long ago, and he can only now that admit that to himself. But admitting that he no longer has the pack means admitting that he no longer has friends, no longer has anyone in his corner that he can too, no longer has a support system. He does have his dad, and after this morning he is secure in the knowledge that he has Peter, too. It’s just, it just  _ hurts _ .

And, for so long all of his free time had been devoted to them. Whether it be pushing himself to be better - to better himself physically or to improve his magic - or endlessly researching for them, it had all been for the pack. He doesn't know what to do know that he’s given up, now that he no longer has something to put all his focus into.

He finds it daunting, to be so unsure of his time.

With a sigh, he pulls into the school parking lot. For the first time since junior year he doesn’t have to worry about meeting up with Scott at the large oak tree near the front steps. Even Scott hadn’t been there since the school year started Stiles always had, a small part of him  _ hoping _ .

Like he said, naive.

He takes his time walking up the front steps. Normally he would be rushing, having waiting until the last moment for Scott to show. Today he walks calmly down the hall, taking his time at his locker. Without the constant presence of the pack looming over him, the constant stress that had been always been  _ right there _ , hanging around the edge of his conscious, he feels calmer, grounded.

He does his best to saunter into his first period class, though he honestly isn’t sure what he looks like. He’s hoping he transmits  _ ’I am doing so much better now that you are not in my life look at me be amazing’ _ , but, he could  very well look like an idiot. Still, he doesn’t glance at any of his previous pack, ignoring the no-longer-empty seat next to Scott and instead sitting down next to a girl named Jane. She’s always smiled at him when they caught each other’s eyes in the hallway, so. 

It beats sitting alone, anyway.

“So I hear you’re getting a ninety three in this class?” Stiles asks, angling his body towards her.

“Yes?” She asks, the corners of her mouth twisting down.

“Nice! I’m getting an eighty nine but mostly because Harris is a  _ dick _ ,”  He says it because he knows last year Greenberg sat beside her  _ just _ to get a better grade, and he doesn’t want her thinking that he’d do the same, “Can I sit here?” 

“Why?” She asks, eyes wide as she glances over to where Scott is glaring at them.

“Scott was a bad dog and I’m punishing him by making sure he can’t copy all my answers anymore.” He says. He doesn't mention that he hasn’t sat beside Scott once this year, that he hasn’t been welcome to. Instead he uses humour to deflect and thankful she laughs.

“Usually when my boyfriend acts up I just refuse him sex, but I guess that doesn't really work with best friends, huh?”

“You never know,” He says, waggling his eyebrows as she laughs again, only turning to the front when Harris starts speaking. 

After that, chemistry really wasn't too bad.

Lunch - well. At lunch, nothing had changed. He still didn’t have a seat at the pack table but instead of the usual twisting of his gut and the stinging in his eyes, he just walked out. Of course it still hurt, but it was already beginning to dull. What had, only last night, felt like a gaping hole in his chest was hardly more than a little pulse of hurt.

It helped that ever since Peter had stopped by this morning there had been a warm thread of a pack bond settled neatly next to his spark. It was still tentative, still weak and barely there but it was  _ something _ , something real and solid that he could focus on when he needed it. It helped, knowing that the man was his pack, that he still  _ had _ pack.

He wasn’t going to pant after his ex-pack like some pathetic lapdog. He was better than that, knew firmly that he was better than that. If they didn’t want him he wouldn’t want them, either. He also would no longer show them that he cared. He was sure that up until now, he may have stank of hurt and abandonment, but not anymore. He wasn’t going to sit at the back of the cafeteria and stare longingly at his ‘friends’.

Instead, he made his way to the line of the preserve. He only needed to walk for a moment before the trees were thick enough to cover him, obscure him from view and hide him from any curious eyes. He sat himself on the forest floor, letting his spark rise bright in his chest. He could tell the bond with Peter was helping to stabilize his magic somewhat, watched inwardly as his spark twined around the soft thread and  _ pushed _ , turning it into something stronger, sturdier.

He felt joy flood into his chest, the same place the bond sat, and knew it was from Peter. The man felt like warmth the same was his father did, and right now, letting their connection wash over him felt just as good as any hug he had ever received from his dad. He laughed softly, smiling wide as he poked at their connection, rejoicing when he felt the man poke back gently.

He focused more on his spark after that, pulling it right under his skin and letting it hum under his fingertips. He had never been able to see it so clearly before, never been able to access so much of his magic. This was even better than the bright light of potential that sat in his chest and he laughed loudly this time, letting his magic  _ glow _ under his skin and watching as he lit up the foliage around him.

* * *

Stiles was overjoyed when the last bell rang, even more overjoyed because he had economics last period so he didn’t have to search the man out. He made his way up to Coach’s desk, waiting for the rest of the class to head out before approaching the man. He liked Coach. Sure, the man was loud and rude, but he had a level of sarcasm that leveled  _ Peter’s _ , and that's saying something.

“What do you want Bilinski!” Coach barked, his eyes softening his harsh tone. 

“Well, I would like to drop lacrosse and join track.” Stiles said. It was something he’d been thinking of even last year, even when he and Scott were still friends. Still close. But now that they're not, Sitles has no reason to stay.

“Why in the hell would you be doing that Bilinski!”

Stiles cringed a little, because if Finstock was anything he was  _ loud _ , “Uh, well I was really only on the team for Scott, and uh, I’m not exactly good? But I  _ am _ a good runner?”

“Ah I see! Well why didn’t you say that Bilinski! You know you’re my favorite student, don’t ya? I mean Male Circumcision! Hah! Taught me a thing or two about my own manhood with that essay!” His teacher announced, and it made Stiles’ heart feel warm. It wasn’t a secret that Stiles was often disliked by teachers, not uncommon for them to unfairly treat him based off their personal feelings. It was annoying, yes, but Stiles was used to it. 

“Thanks coach,” Stiles said, voice a little softer than he meant for it to be. 

“Good, good. Now leave before I have to see you cry! I hate it when kids cry!” Stiles just smiled warmly, leaving the room with a soft laugh.

* * *

Things continue much the same for the following two weeks. He laughs easily with Jane during chemistry - Stiles is glad to say he actually  _ can _ make friends outside of the pack. He makes joke with Coach in the hallways, attends Track meetings and does  _ well _ , easily one of the best long distance runners. He meditates almost everyday during lunch and his spark continues to grow stronger, strengthening as he uses it more.

He doesn’t let how the pack pushed him away dictate how he lives his life. He did that far too much before and he refuses to continue. 

He sneaks into Deaton’s office to ‘borrow’ more books - though the Druid knows what he’s doing, but he doesn’t say anything as long as Stiles brings them back in the same condition in which they were taken. Atop that, he’s slowly putting himself into the magical community that resides in San Francisco. It isn’t too long of a drive to make and he does so both weekends, cautiously putting his name out there. 

He doesn’t tell anyone he’s a spark, doesn’t need that type of attention. Instead he lets shop owners think he’s just another witch who recently came into their magic. It’s much safer this way, he knows. He came across a few Grimoire's and old readings detailing the history of Sparks and - and it wasn’t pretty. Sparks were long ago hunted, a rare, pricey commodity for hunters. They were sold as slaves, imprisoned for  _ centuries _ . 

So he lets people think what they want and he slowly builds up a collection of allies. He doesn’t when he’ll need them, if ever, but he can’t help but thinking it’s a good idea to be prepared. It’s also why he gets his father to go to Chris Argent. Having his dad stocked with appropriately deadly weaponry eases his mind. He knows the man can handle himself now, is confident in his father's ability to keep himself safe now that he has the proper tools.

He sleeps better than he has in a long, long time. The nightmares that haunted him are lighter now, slowly,  _ slowly _ getting lighter. He thinks it has something to do with his strengthening magic. Knowing that if it were to happen now he would easily be able to stop it eases his mind just a little. It helps that his father is always there when he wakes screaming, and he’s not able to fall back asleep as long as it’s in his father's bed.

He had been worried of bothering the man that first night, but his dad had looked so  _ proud _ the next morning that Stiles had just crawled in beside him that night. 

Stiles finds that once he’s no longer stressing over the pack nor attending lacrosse practice - track meets during lunch twice a week and weekends - that he had an abundance of free time. He no longer has to carve his schedule around desperately helping the pack in his own way. He starts making dinner for his dad - as per his previous routine - but now he  _ sits down with the man _ . 

He has Peter to update him with the goings on with the Alpha pack - and really, they aren’t doing much at the moment - so he doesn’t have to constantly worry about that. He knows if something happens he’ll be told and it allows him to rest easier than he has in a long time. Peter himself is a new addition to his life. 

After that first morning he had made himself a regular at the Stilinski home and his father didn’t seem to be protesting one bit. The man joins them for dinner more than a few nights a week and Stiles always makes enough food to have leftovers for himself, his dad,  _ and _ Peter. He knows the man has been going to the station for lunch nearly everyday - the deputies tell him  _ everything  _ at this point. 

He - he finds he doesn't mind. He always thought of his father dating with a grimace. He had never once seriously considered it, because he knew his father had also never considered it. In fact Stiles is certain that the man is completely oblivious to the fact that him and Peter  _ are _ dating, and have been for two weeks at this point. 

So Stiles thinks nothing of it when Peter invades the Stilinski household on a Friday afternoon. Stiles lets him in and has to rush out of the way to avoid being pummeled by the plethora of grocery bags the man is carrying. He and his dad meet in the middle of the hallway, silently watching as Peter pulls out food and pots, a case of beer and a box from the Polish bakery they both like. 

Stiles mentioned it in a text the other day as having his dad's favorite dessert and that knowledge makes Stiles snicker. When his dad looks over at him with a raised brow he doesn't answer the question, instead letting the man keep guessing. He just can’t help but find it cute that Peter is so obviously courting the other man and his father seems it have no idea.

He feels a little strange leaving his dad and Peter alone, sort of feels as though he should go out and do something crazy like  _ chaperone _ them. But, but he actually wants this to happen, and he's going to let it happen naturally and not interfere. Instead of thinking about it, he pulls down the book he needs. It’s filled with protective magics, spells, and rituals and different wards to use.

He finds it on a stroke of luck, almost the exact series of wards he wants to put up around his home. The series he’s looking at begins with keeping out those with ill intent, then there’s two specifically there to power the overall series. The fourth is for protection from harm, strengthening the first ward, but also adding strength to the structure of their home. Fifth is a fire repellent and lastly one to keep out wolves. 

Which - isn’t exactly what  he wants. He draws them out in his note book, careful to keep any magic out of his fingers as he does so, focuses on pushing back his spark as to  _ not _ ward the book in his hands. He takes time fiddling with the last ward, calls upon his spark now to lead his hand as he draws. He adds a few lines to the original ward, making it specific to  _ him _ , overlaying the wards for safe entry and pack.

He squeals when he’s finally done, laughing brightly as he stares down at the piece of paper in his lap before jumping out of his desk chair and all but running out of the room, excitement causing his spark to shine bright in his eyes. He launches himself down the stairs, permanent marker already in hand as he heads to the front door, ignoring both Peter and his Dad when they walk out of the kitchen together - making an effort to  _ really _ ignoring his dad’s blush. 

He slides to his knees at the front door, marker in hand as he slowly takes his time to draw the wards, pulling at his spark and letting it well up bright and hot inside him,  _ pushing _ it out of his fingers and into the lines he’s drawing. He knows his eyes are glowing white, most likely the rest of his body as well. 

Deaton told him once - right at the beginning of the summer when he was still getting some semblance of proper sleep - that he looked as though the moon's light was placed under his skin. He said that Stiles magic was calm and erratic, cold and warm. That his spark is a series of contradictions in the most beautiful way. It was the most words he had ever gotten out of the man at one time, and it made him so pleased he walked around with a dopey smile and flushed cheeks for three days. 

Now he can  _ feel _ it, feel his magic inside him as it pulls and pushes, like the tide of the ocean as it shines bright,  _ feels _ as it sinks into the walls of the house, surrounds his entire home. When he finishes the last symbol, there's a clear drop in temperature accompanied by a loud pop as all the air in the room drops before rising again. 

Stiles is pushed back onto his ass and all he can do is laugh, laugh bright and loud because his magic is so much  _ more _ . Not only has sleeping and eating helped, but the subtraction of stress to his life had done wonders for his magic. There is also the daily meditating, how he spends an hour each day at lunch - and usually more once home, on his magic and keeping it strong, flexing and working it out and watching as it grows.

When he finally, finally manages to stand up on shaky legs his dad is already there to help him and guide him to the couch. 

“Well that’s certainly going to be helpful in the near future,” Peter drawls as he settles himself in the arm chair across from the two Stilinski’s.

“What is?” His dad asks, frown firmly in place as he looks between the other two. 

“I placed wards around the house. Protection, one to repel those with bad intent, and one to keep out any wolves I don’t want coming in.” Stiles answers, cuddling into his dad's warmth as his own rapidly leaves his body. 

“Are you  _ okay _ ?” His dad's voice is twisted with concern and he does feel bad, a little guilty but all he can do is nod. 

“Magic is taxing on the body. Stiles here just used a lot, if even  _ I’m _ able to feel the wards he just put up. He needs food and rest.” Peter explains, getting up and running a hand down the back of Stiles’ head, squeezing the nape of his neck before lifting him under the shoulders and settling him on his feet, “C’mon pup, I made dinner.” 

Stiles leans into Peter, letting the man take all his weight. He lets out a growl when he walks into the dining room, sees the plate of  _ steak wrapped in bacon  _ and punches Peter’s arm, “I will not give you courting rights if you’re going to feed him  _ beef _ !”

“Courting rights?” His dad asks at the same time as Peter says, “You would give me permission?”

“Doesn't matter and obviously, I care about you both, and if being together makes you happy then why would I stand in the way?” Stiles answers both men respectively. His dad is still fairly confused but instead of asking dives into his baked potato -  _ which has cheese and bacon and sour cream on it jesus fucking christ  _ \- while Peter’s face breaks into a large, gentle smile and he tilts his head to Stiles, baring his throat in a casual manner and acknowledging the younger boy’s position in their newly found pack.

Stiles eats with a smile and despite wanting to steal away his father's plate and replace it with a bowl of kale, he enjoys the food. Peter turns out to be a fairly good cook, and the conversation is light. It’s domestic, having someone other than just his dad eat with them especially as his dad and Peter spend the meal bantering, a light amount of flirting thrown in for good measure. Stiles can’t find it in himself to care, really, too happy at watching the easy smile on his dad’s face, or the way Peter blushes when the older man teases him. 

It’s comfortable and when everyone's finished, but the easy smile drops from Peter’s face and is replaced with something akin to a snarl, his lip curling gently over his top teeth. He lets out a long breath, scrubs a hand wearily over his face and sighs, disgruntled. 

“My nephew is a goddamn idiot,” Peter says as he blows out a breath, slumping a little in his seat. 

Stiles can’t help it, but he snorts out a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand when it devolves into a bright giggle. Derek  _ is _ an idiot, “No, I’m being serious. Also, the McCall boy? I will never regret anything as much as I do biting the little brat.”

“Okay, what stupid plan did Scott talk Derek into?” Stiles asks, leaning forward.

“Dear god. They seem to think - and this really is a testament to their stupidity - that meeting with  _ The Alpha Pack  _ would somehow be a  _ good _ idea!”

Stiles chokes on his own saliva at that, his mouth dropping open as he sits there, stupidly blinking as his mouth tries to form words. Because alright,  _ no _ . That is possibly the worst plan Stiles has ever  _ heard _ jesus! 

“Did they not  _ read my research _ ?” 

“Hey son, calm it down alright?” John mutters when the lights in the kitchen start flickering on and off, the distinct sound of silverware clanking together from inside the drawer on the other side of the room sounding into the silence.

“Well,  _ I _ obviously did, and I left the whole folder with Derek and urged him to, but well, my nephew is an idiot.” 

“Yep. That’s definitely a bad idea. Wait, when are they even doing this?” His dad asks, turning to Peter now that Stiles has settled down a fair bit.

“Sunday at six.” 

“Jesus,” John mutters, standing to clean off the table. 

Stiles just sort of sits there, mouth dropped open in shock. He knew, intellectually, that the pack wasn’t going to read his research, but well he still  _ hoped _ . He put so much of himself into it, so much time and energy and sleepless nights and skipped meals. 

But above all else, that folder was to keep them alive. It was good information, useful information. It was all they needed to take down the Alphas, and knowing that they didn’t read it, that they’ll be going in blind when Stiles literally gave them all the answers, is what’s pissing off Stiles the most.

He stays in his seat until Peter comes and ushers him up, leading him to the couch. Stiles settles into the side, curling his legs up and resting his head on his knees. He knows what this means, knows that he’s going to have to do  _ something _ to keep those idiots safe, whether he wants to or not. His dad flops down onto the couch beside him, tugging Peter down before wrapping an arm around the wolf and pulling him closer. 

Stiles smiles at that, all earlier anger leaking out of him, “This might be too early, but when you guys get married I _better_ be the best man,” Stiles says softly, laughing as Peter’s smile turns smug and his dad blushes, the slight pink turning to deep red as Peter shoves his face into the older man's neck to breathe. “Scenting. Werewolf thing.”

His Dad just hums at the explanation, rubbing his chin against Peter’s temple, already adapting. Peter purrs at that, a god honest purr erupting from his throat and in turn his dad pulls the man closer, a soft smile gracing his lips as he continues to rub his scent into the wolf.

“Okay, ground rules. No sex when I’m here, but sleep overs are on hundred percent a-okay. Peter, I expect you to keep buying me that really good coffee and to  _ stop _ buying those doughnuts.”

“Stiles, you do realize  _ I _ am the father right?” 

“You may be the father, but Stiles is most definitely the Alpha.” Peter grumbles from John’s neck.

“Yeah Dad, I’m the  _ Alpha _ .” Stiles says, smiling to himself.

John just sighs, because what is he going to do. His - boyfriend (maybe?) and son are going to team up against him on everything, it’s already happening! “Alright, so what are we going to do about this meeting?”

“Oh, I’m going to be there,” Stiles says, plan already in motion.

“Dear boy, I would expect nothing less,” Peter comments, leaning back into the couch, “Alright, so we will be on the north perimeter of the preserve…” 

The rest of the evening is spent in the soft light of the TV, Stiles and Peter loosely coming up with a plan as some game show plays softly in the background. At some point Stiles curls up into his Dad’s side as Peter does the same on the other.

That’s how Stiles falls asleep, to the light of the TV and his Dad and Peter whispering to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty kids: firstly this is my first time posting from a draft SO WISH ME LUCK  
> so i have a lot of shit to say about this story and like, life  
> firstly this story but if you wanna hear me ramble about like five other stories hang in there: With You, I Belong started as a lil idea, literally a rambling thought I posted to tumblr and then turned into a fic. from there it became a twelve chapter half ass work that i was NOT happy with so i made it into something more. The continued support i am receiving warms my heart. I am honest to god worried that you guys are going to start hating the rewrite (in fact i'm pretty sure some of my original readers left) especially as it goes. in fact, this story is going to drastically change from where the original was headed. i have an entire new story line in mind (one where i finally have a clear ending, so amen to that). I just hope you guys continue to enjoy and like it, and never end up hating it LOL  
> as for my other fics: i AM writing a story for the steternetwork monthly prompt: i fucking SWEAR! the problem is this: i had about 1500 words of half assed work and decided to start over, completely changing the story i was originally writing. now its like fucking insane, with so much different shit happening that i honestly cannot even with it. i am hopefully going to finish it BY THE END OF AUGUST AND POST IT UH. but it's hard, as i'm working on two other fics that i try very hard to post weakly. because of those i cannot spend all my time on one single fic, but will try and get that out for you! even if it's late it will be posted (be ready for some omega, sugar baby stiles meeting the hales for the first time).  
> aside from my two weekly updates and this prompt, I have a few other solid ideas rolling around. there is a story me and frostedgoddess recently hashed out, and from the story she's writing inspired me to write something similar. that one i want to firmly plan out. aside from that one i have three steter fics im loosely working on, though they are all without a plot or story line - so lemme write those out sometime LOL. lastly i have a fic i am working on that is heavily inspired by one of my fav authors turned friends that i am so excited for but am weeks and week away from finishing - sigh!  
> oh i also work like every single day and retail is tiring (at least i'm not going back to school, LOL!)  
> so yeah, i have a lot of stuff planned and my mind is stuffed full of content for you all to enjoy, so cross your fingers - we may have more shit coming soon!!!
> 
> oh also i post little sneak peaks and tidbits of upcoming chapters on my tumblr, as well as reblog a shit ton of fanart for my various pairings (tbh it's mostly stony and spiderpool oh well).  
> come say hi? [my tumblr!!!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


	4. I Propose a Trade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What’s that? Magic? The Hale Pack? The Alpha Pack? You bet your ass it is!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you both ruby and emily for betaing this, i love ya both! em, i am fairly certain you don't have nerve damage, BUT IF U DO I LOVE U

His spark was burning bright under his skin, his eyes alight with his magic. It was thrumming around him, through him. Ever since warding his house it was like the dam had been broken. His spark went from a tea light to a forest fire, wild and untamed and beautiful in its power. He had never before imagined that it could be quite so bright. It was warm under his skin and he wanted to laugh with glee. These woods recognized him, were familiar with his power. 

He took a breath, calling upon his spark to hide him, cover his scent and his heart beat. His lips curled into a smile as a soft glow laid over his skin, a visual representation of his magic that only he - or other strong magic users - would be able to see. 

He took another step forward, almost letting out delighted laughter when his step made no noise. He stepped on a twig purposefully, already grinning and only smiling wider when no sound was made. Stiles hadn't been sure if he would be able to do that, to silence his surroundings as well. 

He already knew he could block his scent and heartbeat, had practiced with Peter over the weekend. But to silence his surroundings, for him to make  _ no noise _ , was an entirely different level - the magic much more complex. Altering oneself was one thing, but Stiles was using his magic to affect his surroundings.

He did finally let out a laugh when he focused his spark and pulled at the light around him, wrapping it around himself until he disappeared from view. He was giddy with it, with the high that using his magic was bringing him. It was a reminder that he wasn’t weak, that despite everything that he had already been through that he was still  _ strong _ . He felt a little vindictive glee thinking about it, thinking about just how strong his spark was. 

Earlier, Peter had briefly tried to talk Stiles out of coming with him tonight and it had been reminiscent of how he'd previously been treated that he immediately went on the defensive. It hadn’t exactly gone well, Stiles crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the man.  _ ‘Look, I just want - I  _ need _ you to be safe, alright? You - Stiles, you’re like a  _ cub _ to me,’ _ . 

After that, Stiles couldn't bring himself to be upset and had hugged the man, thankful when Peter hadn’t mentioned the scent of salt in the air or the wet spots he left on his shirt. 

He had still gone, of course. He couldn’t let the man go alone, not with how much he meant to not only his dad, but Stiles himself. If the man was going to worry about his safety, he better believe Stiles as going to do the same. It wasn’t just because he was dating his dad - either. Peter, Peter had been there for him when the rest of his ‘pack’ wasn’t, had been the only one upset with the treatment Stiles received. 

Peter had wormed his way into Stiles’ heart - it was probably seeing Peter in sweats and his father's old BHSD sweatshirt - and was  _ pack, _ now. Once Stiles had cast the wards, he could feel Peter inside them, could feel his connection and then suddenly he could feel the man's pack bond. It had never been strong before, one of the weaker ones that Stiles used to have, since he had never spent too much time with the man. But now? It was brighter than any he’d ever felt, and it strummed strong inside his chest, a warm weight. 

He could feel it even now as he slowly walked towards the clearing. It was like the forest was bending to his will, clearing a path as he walked and he wanted to laugh again, throw his head back and shout with joy. He’d never felt like this before, so wholly  _ happy _ , relief washing through him. He made sure to thank the forest, let a little of his spark out to brush over the foliage surrounding him when he stepped into the clearing.

He had known that he was invisible, that no one would be able to sense him, but to have it proven sent a shiver of pride down his spine. None of the wolves even twitched - albeit Peter who could most likely sense his closeness because of their bond. Stiles knew that the bond they shared was one of the only real pack bonds the wolf had, his weak link to Derek only still in existence due to their shared blood

Both Stiles and Peter had been surprised by the sudden strength of their bond, though they figured it was most likely Stiles’ magic adding to it. They had spent most of that morning experimenting with it, seeing just how strong it was. And it  _ was _ strong, strong enough that Stiles had been able to follow it all the way to the clearing, and definitely strong enough for Peter to be able to tell that Stiles was almost standing right next to him. The small smirk that formed on his face was confirmation enough. 

Stiles couldn’t help but let out a sigh when he looked over Derek’s pack. They were half way into the clearing, Derek standing front and center with Peter a handful of steps behind and a step to the left. Scott was about two steps behind Derek and one to the right, and it was a little funny, Stiles had to admit, that  _ Scott _ was Derek’s right hand. Funny in the  _ ‘what the fuck are you doing’  _ sense, since Scott was a terrible werewolf with even worse instincts. 

He should never have been given such a high position in a pack, especially one higher than  _ Peter _ . And yes, left hand is a perfectly acceptable position for the older wolf, one that Stiles would gladly give to Peter. He was more than ruthless enough, but he had such a strong sense of pack, such loyal instincts that it made him an even better fit. 

But for Scott to be placed above Peter in pack hierarchy? That made  _ no fucking sense  _ to Stiles. Derek really was an idiot, if he was confronting an outside pack with a relatively newly bitten wolf holding higher rank than an older born wolf. Stiles shook his head to stop thinking about it, it wasn’t Stiles’ place to worry about them, not after they kicked him out. 

Behind the main three the others were all standing in a loose semicircle, Allison and Isaac taking up the next line while Lydia and Jackson took up the rear. It made sense to have those four placed in such a way, at least. Lydia was human - and if more, no one knew what yet - and Jackson’s control was still  _ awful _ , add that to him being hardly trained and, well. 

Keeping them to the back meant they’d be furthest from the fight, safest and the first to be able to get away if needed.

Stiles moved a little closer to Peter, wanting desperately to wrap his magic around the older wolf. He couldn’t yet, couldn't do anything that risked exposing himself. He wanted to protect what was  _ his _ , his father's words still fresh in his mind. His father had been a little anxious the whole day, staying close to both of them until it was time to leave. He had pulled them both into a tight hug, asking them to  _ ‘just look out for each other. I want my boys back in once piece’ _ . 

Stiles was pulled from the memory by the sound of footsteps. They echoed around the clearing louder than they should to his human senses. A sign of power, Stiles thought as he took a few steps forward, placing himself in front of Peter. Stiles set his shoulders, felt his spark hum inside of him in anticipation of what was to come. 

He watched as Deucalion broke from the tree line, a light smirk pulling at his lips. Stiles could see the harsh red scars that littered his face, though his black glasses did cover a fair portion of them. He stopped a few feet in front of Derek, folding up the walking cane he had been using and slowly placing it in his back pocket all while smiling calmly. 

After him came Ennis, a giant hulk of man that came up to Deucalion's right, standing almost beside him, barely half a step back. Stiles had to hold back a giggle when the light caught on the man's head, the baldness shining in the fading sun. He did make an intimidating picture though, standing taller than Deucalion and much wider. After him a smaller, lithe woman all but sauntered into the clearing, bare feet and sharp claws sticking from her toes. She settled at Deucalion’s left, same distance back as Ennis, putting them in an equal position as just under their Alpha. 

Lastly a teenager, one of the twins came out and settled further back, a handful of steps away and directly behind his Alpha. Stiles felt uneasy when no one else followed him, his eyes trying to see into the tree line for the second twin. He knew Peter felt the same, could feel Peter’s eyes scanning the forest just as much as his own were. Stiles didn’t like the feeling that settled in his gut, barely thinking before stepping further and situating himself more between the two packs.

He wasn’t foolish enough to think that he stood any real chance against the Alpha’s, knew that if they decided to attack he would most likely die. He could only hope he’d be able to get himself and Peter away, though he had absolutely no idea if he’d be able to make someone  _ else _ invisible. 

“Alpha Hale,” The voice echoed around the clearing, deep with the power it held. 

It was another obvious show of power, much like the volume of his footsteps. It did make Stiles nervous though, that the man was so confident. Well, he was either confident or showing off to make himself  _ appear _ more powerful. 

He didn’t seem the least bit worried, and Stiles’ nerves only doubled when the man bowed, right hand coming up to place a fist over his heart, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Deucalion,” Derek said, voice nothing but a low growl as his eyes flashed red. Stiles swallowed hard. That - that was a challenge. Not only that, but Derek’s lack of manners and complete lack of respect was an insult, a dismissal as Deucalion as an equal. And Jesus, if the man was not  _ more  _ than an equal,

“I want what’s mine.”

“Now, now boy. What would your mother say about those manners?” Deucalion said smoothly, a brow rising in question behind his sunglasses and Stiles let out a snort. 

The man’s face turned shortly in Stiles’ direction and the boys heartbeat kicked up, thumping wildly in his chest. But - but he doesn’t even have to time about that, because Derek shifted, his beta shift taking over his face and the few in his pack who could followed through. Scott roared,  _ roared _ at the Alpha’s - though Peter uses it as a distraction to step closer to Stiles, slowly stepping past his ‘Alpha’ and stepping closer to the boy.

“C’mon old man, just give us back our packmates and we won’t have to fight you,” Jackson said, smirk firmly on his face. Jackson has always been ego and confidence that he _ cannot back up _ , but in this case he’s really out of his league. Kali flashes her eyes at him and all Jackson does is drop his fangs and smile back. 

They were going to get themselves killed.

Stiles remained standing in the middle of the clearing, awestruck at the stupidity of his pack. He’s glad Peter is behind him, at his back. None of the other Alpha’s have seemed to notice Peter passing Derek, too busy staring down individual members of the hale pack. Well, Deucalion has clearly noticed, since he’s staring straight through Stiles at Peter.

Stiles doesn’t like it, and he doesn’t want to intervene, either. He would much rather grab Peter and run away, leave the pack to deal with the idiocy they’ve caused. But - but he knows he can’t do that. He can’t like the pack die, even if they mean nothing to him anymore. He catches Scott stepping forward from the corner of his eye and his drops his spell, blinking into appearance. 

His old pack collectively gasp as his heartbeat and scent flood into the clearing, though Peter lets out a sigh behind him. He knows it must have been difficult on the man to be able to feel him through the bond but not be able to hear or scent him. The Alpha’s are all taken aback, eyes wide as they stare at him - except for Deucalion who just smirks, obviously having sensed Stiles’ presence the whole time. 

He made his way to the direct center of the clearing, situating himself directly between the two Alpha’s and turns his back to Derek, not only distancing himself from the Hale pack, but also showing that he doesn’t consider them a threat.

He stopped in front of Deucalion, keeping just out of arm's reach and he bows. He keeps his chin low, not making eye contact with the man as he does so, fist covering his heart. He lets himself go low, acknowledging the man's power, recognizing himself lesser - which isn’t entirely true. If it were any regular Alpha he wouldn’t be doing this, wouldn’t need to. 

He’s strong, he can feel it inside himself - but Deucalion? Deucalion is another plane of existence, his power seeping into the clearing and surrounding them all. So he bows deep, not wanting any mistake in what he’s doing. He's not presenting himself as an equal, rather someone who wishes not to fight and recognizes the superior strength to the one they’re bowing to.

He straightens up and is sure Peter followed his example in the bow.  Kali is watching him, eyes narrowed as if she could see  _ into _ him. Ennis’ eyes are wide, probably in disbelief at the manner the human is showing. Stiles would probably be surprised too, but he’s never done things halfway. And besides he wants to  _ be  _ someone in the supernatural world, someday, he needs to make sure he acts like he belongs there, 

“Alpha Deucalion, a pleasure.”

“Oh, I truly believe the pleasure is all mine, Mister …”

“Spark Stilinski, please,” Stiles said with another bow of his head, just a craning of his neck as to show he’s not offering his title as a challenge. 

He can’t help but being surprised when in turn Deucalion steps forward and offers his hand. Stiles, despite the sudden pounding in his heart lifts his own for the handshake. He’s doing well so far and he doesn’t need anything to ruin what he’s trying to do, the peace he hopes to be able to keep. Only, instead of shaking it Deucalion takes it in his own and lifts it forward, bending his head down to press a kiss to Stiles’ knuckles, letting the contact linger a moment before stepping back. 

Stiles eyes are already wide and unseeing, his body taut with sudden tension. His spark is roaring under his skin even as darkness slowly starts to ebb into his vision, his breathing turning sharp and shallow. His vision blacks and suddenly he sees a young man, early twenties standing in a clearing. His eyes are bright blue, sharp and clear as they watch a large black wolf trot forward. The wolf stops and shifts, elongating into a woman.

The woman - god, that must be Talia Hale - said something, though Stiles’ can't hear. It looks like an argument though, the way Talia’s jaw goes sharp and the man's shoulders tense up and his gaze hardens. 

Suddenly everything is black again and the same man is standing in a - distillery? It’s an old building at least, filled with large containers and canisters. There was an older man across from him flanked by three others dressed in black. Hunters, obviously and at the center was a younger looking Gerard. 

Stiles wanted to throw up just at the sight of him, bile rising in his throat even as he’s helpless to watch the scene unfold in front of him. They talk for a while until suddenly Gerard hefts up a club, a large wooden thing covered in - dear god, wolf claws. Not only that, but Stiles can see the glitter of mountain ash and watches as it is swung straight into Deucalion's eyes and Stiles can see how the warehouse shakes from the strength of the roar he lets it.

Stiles screamed along with him, his entire face burning. He could feel the claws pierce his skin, the blood oozing out and the wolfsbane burning him, sealing his injuries and making sure they’d scar. It’s horrible, enough to make Stiles wish he was back in the basement. It's the worst pain he’s ever felt but then it’s gone and instead he’s watching Deucalion lie on a table, the man panting hard. 

Someone else comes in, another wolf sneering at the Alpha. Stiles knew, somehow that the man was Deucalion’s second and he watched in gross interest as the younger wolf went to swipe at his Alpha's throat, only for Deucalion to catch his wrist and swipe his own claws across his beta’s neck, hot blood splattering over his face. 

His vision blacked out again though suddenly he was watching  _ himself _ , could see the clearing. He was still standing in the middle, body rigid as Deucalion dropped his hand, stepping back and bowing formally, a smirk on his face as he righted himself. Stiles was forced back into himself on a harsh inhale, the vision clearing to the scene in front of him. Deucalion was still straightening up, returning to his looming height, all power and strength swirling around him like a physical being. 

And Stiles - Stiles could feel something like  _ protectiveness _ curl in his chest at the thought of what the man had been through. He just wanted peace, wanted to  _ help _ . Had foolishly trusted Gerard only to have the man steal his eyesight. The same man who had taken far too much from Stiles took from this man as well, took the  _ good _ from this man. Which, no, not entirely true. 

Stiles could feel it, under the Alpha power and strength the man had, his soul was still good. 

Tinted yes, having to fight his own pack just to  _ live _ must have been incredibly hard. Stiles couldn’t even  _ imagine _ the pain the man must have felt while killing them and how that would have twisted with the sharp spike of power he would have received. Hell, Stiles didn’t  _ want _ to think about it, just wanted to get this over with. 

“How may I help you, Spark Stilinski?” The man asked. It didn’t seem like he had any idea what Stiles had just seen, or if he had didn’t seem to have anything to say about it.

“Alpha Deucalion, I propose a trade.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty! I think this is the second last chapter to really follow the original story line. After chapter five things are really going to start to change up in a way that I am so so excited for, jesUS! I literally can hardly wait and I have so much planned out and thought out and it just makes me so excited. I am so incredibly happy that I decided to rewrite this story! This chapter was fun to write especially when I spent more time detailing Stiles' magic and talking about his spark. I have so many ideas about that and you'll see in the upcoming weeks a lot of these ideas bleeding over into my story Give Me Family!  
> I ask you this!! (for everyone who HASNT YET READ THE WORK) what is Stiles offering to trade, hmm?
> 
> Now for my other writing! I have decided to abandon the steternetwork prompt of august! i spent half a month trying to write the damn story and even after changing the entire story it did not help. hopefully i'll be able to get down with Septembers! also, I have stopped working on ALL my other fics! i am going to put all my focus into these two (With You, I Belong & Give Me Family)! Asides from a lil thor/stiles oneshot I don't think i am going to start anything new.  
> THAT DOES NOT MEAN NOT TO PROMPT ME! if someone gives me a story idea i WILL 100% write it! i love being given prompts and will always write them! i just do not have the time or energy to think up, plot out, then write my own fics. after this is done, HELL YEAH! in fact I have a plethora of fics I'll be able to choose from, lOL! 
> 
> On a personal note, I BARELY WORK THE NEXT TWO WEEKs. yes i am very angry that my job unfairly (and im not even sure legally) knocked down my hours the way they did, but sigh! i work four shifts over the next two weeks (i have been averaging five a week for the last month but WHATEVER) and will have so much time to write! I am hoping to be able to get far ahead in my chapters, as I am currently NOT! in fact, I do not have next weeks chapter even fully planned yet :( 
> 
> alas, this is all for now. I am going to try and ask a question every update, so this weeks question is : opinions on Colton Haynes and his fiance? Personally i think Jeff is hot as hell and completely adorable, and I follow both on insta just to watch their insta stories. UH i want their relationship! i want to be in love!  
> SIGH  
> [my tumblr!!!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


	5. Anything For You, Dear Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions, bondings and neck lying. What has Stiles gotten himself - and Peter - into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT IS THIS TWO UPDATES?! WHY!?
> 
> The very lovely Red1999 is such a sweet, amazing kind hearted soul that I offered to write her a little fic of ANYTHING she may want! You know what she said? Instead of giving me a story prompt like I wanted, she said this, "I know though that you are up to your eyeballs in fics right now and I would much rather you devote your time to what you've got going on. However, maybe I could ask for a few more of your cycles being devoted to this fic instead of being quite as evenly divided up with the others?". Like how FUCKING SWEET IS SHE! So this is for you, sweetheart!
> 
> also thank you ruby for betaing, em keep getting better babe!
> 
> See end notes for warnings!

Deucalion’s laughter rings out throughout the clearing. There’s still a shocked silence coming from the Hale pack and the Alphas seem in no hurry to say anything. There’s no mocking to the sound, not like when he’d first spoken to Derek and Stiles can tell the man is now genuinely pleased. It’s a nice laugh, really, and Deucalion seems to put so much energy into everything he does that Stiles grins despite himself.

“Anything for you, dear boy.” And it shouldn’t make Stiles blush, shouldn’t make _something_ pool low in his belly, a feeling he can’t quite name - or rather doesn’t _want_ to. He know’s what he’s going to do and although it was a plan thrown together on the fly, he’s confident in his ability to pull this off. He doesn’t need anything coming in the way of it, doesn’t need anything risking this.

“I ask that you return to Alpha Hale his capture pack mates,” Stiles says calmly, raising his voice at the end to let it come through as a question, not a statement.

He’s asking a favor after all, and despite what the man said Stiles is still treading carefully. He recognizes the line he’s standing on is a thin one, that he could very easily fall off, offend the wolf in front of him and everything he is trying to do would fall with him.

“And what can you possibly offer?” Kali slurs around her fangs, her eyes slowly bleeding red as she sneers at him.

“Myself of course,” Stiles says, turning to look at Peter. The man is standing close behind him, hardly leaving space between their bodies. He has stayed by Stiles side ever since the boy revealed himself, all but abandoning his nephews pack. It’s nice to know he’s willing to take Stiles side in this, but the nod the man gives him helps to put him at ease, “Well, Beta Peter Hale, and myself.

“You do one magic trick and think _you_ are worth their lives?” Kali says on a growl, her knees bending as her beta shift falls over.

It’s not a pretty sight, her already long toenails elongating even more. Her face shift isn’t pleasant - her eyebrows recede into her sideburns as her hairline fills out in a deep set widow's peak, her nose flattening and lips curling back in a snarl. It’s not pretty although it _is_ intimidating.

Stiles closes his eyes, letting his magic guide him. It flares bright inside him and he allows it to be seen, for the growing light of the moon to spill out of him and into the clearing. When he opens his eyes it’s to see the Alphas squinting, Kali covering her eyes against the light of his magic. He focuses on her then, lets his magic bleed into his eyes and he catches sight of her Alpha spark. It glows red in her chest, bright inside her and he pushes on it with his own magic, forcefully shifting her back to human. He calls his spark back, satisfied with the show of his magic as the she-wolf stumbles backward, eyes wide.

“Think I’m worth it now?” Stiles asks, letting his voice tease.

“Very well, Spark Stilinski. We will return Beta Erica Reyes and Beta Vernon Boyd to the Hale Pack in exchange for both Beta Peter Hale and yourself.” The older Alpha says, voice raising and echoing in the clearing.  

Before he even finishes speaking the second twin walks out of the cover of the trees, several gasps sounding from behind Stiles. Stiles relaxes though, glad that the entire pack is _finally_ out in the open. He lets himself release the breath he's been holding but doesn't do more than that, still keeping his body tight, his spark still close to the surface.

Once the second twin has situated himself next to his brother, Erica and Boyd stroll from the treeline in what looks to be perfect health. Erica’s hair is nicely curled, her lips painted red. Boyd is still as tall as ever, his hair still shaved close and he's cleanly shaved.

Neither look like they've been being held hostage for months as they walk past the Alphas. He hasn't seen them since Gerard’s basement and it's like the image of them strung up, bloody, bruised and _broken_ is being overlaid with what's in front of him. He can see them, can see that they're safe and healthy but also can't seem to shake out the image of Erica roaring in outrage as Gerard _fucked_ him.

The closer they get the more Stiles wants to reach out, wants to _feel_ them, to reassure himself that they _are_ real, that they are alive. Erica takes that choice away when she walks up to him and falls into his chest, tucking her face under his chin and releasing a sharp sob. Boyd comes up behind her, bracketing her in both his arms, each around her to hold Stiles as well, one hand on his back and one cradling his head.

He lets himself fall into the embrace, soaking up the feeling of the two whole and safe around him, his spark all but roaring in delight. Stiles is now crying as well, loud sobs ripping themselves from his throat. The only reason he isn’t trying to quiet himself is because he's vividly remembering that night, remembering the pain and _worse_ , the feeling of the man's release leaking out of him.

His tears are an odd mix of trauma and relief, because Stiles _is_ relieved. He is so fucking relieved to see his pack mates - or friends rather, since they were never pack to begin with - safe and happy. It's almost overwhelming and he can feel his spark combing over them, making sure that they really are as okay as they look.

They do finally pull apart and Erica laughs, smiling at Stiles before saying, “You really are a superhero, huh Batman?”

Stiles just smiles, a weak tearful thing as he rights himself. He lets himself lean into Peter as he feels the man send comfort along their bond, a hand coming up to lightly hold the back of his neck. It’s a strictly lupine gesture but it helps calm Stiles. It also helps knowing that he has the man here beside him, behind him, willing to follow him.

After seeing Boyd and Erica, Stiles feels reassured about his decision to join the Alpha Pack. They’ve had the two of them held ‘hostage’ for months yet both of them look like they did just before they decided to leave, if not better. Stiles is actually fairly sure Erica’s hair is _blonder_ than it ever was before, falling in thick and styled waves down her back.

Stiles takes a steadying breath, allowing himself one more moment to seep strength from Peter. It’s crazy, really, that the wolf is so willing to follow Stiles into what is literally the enemies territory. He has no idea what Stiles has planned, nor what could possibly happen and just the fact that he’s putting so much blind faith in him makes Stiles want to preen.

The wolf, despite being nearly twenty years his senior is deferring to _him_ as the Alpha and just knowing that makes Stiles more confident in his decisions while being terrified of them.

He takes a step forward, Peter following him close enough that Stiles can still feel his body heat against his back. He walks until he’s in front of Deucalion, not once looking back at his old pack. He’s aware of them embracing Erica and Boyd, can feel how they’ve collectively stopped paying attention to the threat in front of them. Their idiocy never ceases to surprise Stiles, and for the moment he’s happy they kicked him out, happy that he doesn’t have to deal with them.

“Well, now that everything is settled,” Deucalion begins, bowing slightly, his lips twisted into a small smirk at the mockery of the action. Derek clearly doesn’t know how to properly behave when it comes to formal meetings, and Deucalion is just showing his superiority once again,

“It was a pleasure.” And with that he turns his back, obviously unthreatened by the Hale pack. He doesn’t step forward right away though and Stiles in turn steps up, offering out his arm for the older man to grab onto. He’s not sure _why_ he does so, but his spark is calming under his skin and he’s always been one to trust in his instincts - they’ve rarely led him wrong. So he doesn’t think, refuses to look deeper into his actions and instead just acts. The man lightly wraps his hand around Stiles’ proffered arm with a small, genuine curve of his lips.

It’s then the man takes his first step, Stiles keeping in line beside him. Stiles is smart and he’s done quite a bit of research. Really, there’s only one position in pack hierarchy that would allow Stiles to fall into step with his Alpha, and that’s _not_ something he’s willing to think about.

He could fall half a step back, fall into the role of Emissary, but now he’s leading the man. He decides the _only_ reason Deucalion is letting them walk beside one another is _because_ he is leading the man even as he wills himself to forget about the cane he knows is in the man's pocket.

Instead he assumes the role of another Alpha, straightening up just a little and letting the smallest bit of his power bleed under his skin. He’s presenting himself as close to an equal as he can, because the only other option is not worth exploring. They make their way through the forest, Stiles’ magic tracing the power trails the pack left on their way here.

He can still feel Peter right at his back, the wolf standing close. The man is his second and the way he’s standing is presenting them as two different packs, not yet merged into one, though that is the goal, and it’s obvious at this point. It does make Stiles feel better though, knowing that Peter is _still_ willing to follow him and fuck, Stiles hopes to be worthy of that.

* * *

Not much further is said as they continue their way out of the clearing. It isn’t necessarily an awkward silence though it isn’t the most comfortable that Stiles has experienced. The atmosphere is tense and Stiles is set to blame that on the Alphas. He can’t smell emotions and he isn’t quite able to _feel_ what the others are, but he can get a sense if he focuses enough.

It’s - it’s almost like an aura, in a sort. He can tell that Deucalion is the only one who is truly calm, the only one who doesn’t have anything to fear. In fact, he has a sort of… excitement clinging to him. It’s subtle, yes, a barely there thing but enough to pique Stiles interest.

The air of excitement around the Alpha wolf only grows as they near the end of the tree line, the trees thinning out even as they move around Stiles and Deucalion, the forest bending to their power. Stiles is hopeless to imagine what they may be together, how brightly they must shine standing beside one another and just how much they could be as one.

He isn’t stupid, he has an inkling of what is about to happen. Either Peter and he are going to die or they will be brought into the pack, Stiles as Emissary and Peter as his left hand. It would be a rare position for the wolf to take, one not normally required. Yes, they all merge together, they all become one, but Peter would be Deucalion's beta _and_ Stiles’ left hand, while Deucalion could have his own or give Peter the position as his.

When they hit the very end of the forest line Peter shoves past Stiles, all but throwing him into the man at his side who shoots out a hand to steady him. Stiles pays no mind to Deucalion, though, all his attention focused on where Peter is on his knees, arms wrapped around a petite girl. She’s short, maybe Lydia’s height if the girl ever wore flat shoes. Her hair is hiding her face, falling in front of her where she’s bent over Peter, the man wrapped around her middle.

Stiles knows it’s Cora even before the broken voice of Peter carries the name to him. He can see the pack bond between the two, an old, brittle thing slowly healing itself as Peter sobs into her stomach. Cora just clutches at the man's shoulders, her head lowered so she can breathe deeply at the top of his head.

He turns to the Alpha at his side - making sure that his spark is still attentively watching Peter. He doesn’t like that the man so blatantly turned his back on the others, though he can surely understand why he would. Deucalion has a soft smile on his face, a rather self-indulgent thing.

He’s sure if he could scent emotions the man would be radiating smugness, as if this was all part of some evil plan that is not evil at _all_.

The man turns his head to Stiles, flashing the boy a smile and it’s a pretty sight even with the scars adorning the man's face. They’re long, red things surrounding his eye area and his forehead, visible even around the rims of his black-out glasses. The scars themselves are raised, puckered skin and they look painful, and Stiles wonders for a moment if they are.

He looks up when his spark tugs at him, alerting him that Peter has stood. He’s now smoothing hair back from his niece's face, his lips moving softly even as his shoulders continue to tense. He can't hear what they’re saying but whatever Cora says has Peter sagging with relief, so Stiles can guess the content of conversation had been Laura.

He stretches his magic and he feels that it's softly surrounding the two, keeping what they're saying from the wolves as well. Stiles watches as Deucalion’s lip twitch from the corner of his eye and he can only hope it's from amusement.

Peter comes back soon after, his eyes bright and his smile all but blinding. Stiles pulls him close with the arm not being held by Deucalion, presses his forehead against the man's and flashes his eyes. His hold is firm on the back of Peter’s neck and their bond sings between them, so much unhindered joy that Stiles is sure even John in his humanity would be able to feel it.

Cora comes up only once Stiles has let Peter go and the man has fallen back behind him - assuming his previous position. Neither Stiles nor Deucalion say anything when Cora stands beside her Uncle, hands tightly held together and instead continue their walk, finally breaking the tree line.

A few yards to the left is an old looking building, though Stiles doesn’t have time to look closely enough to figure out what it is. Instead they rest for a moment, standing close when the rest of the pack catches up. Deucalion doesn’t let go of his arm until the second twin breaks through the tree line and Stiles misses the warmth of it.

He waits until the pack is gathered, using the moment to calm his heart, to push down his growing anxiety. This - this could ruin everything. It’s not as though Stiles isn’t aware of the position they're in, the disadvantaged he and Peter hold. This - this could turn very, very bad for them very quickly.

“I do have one condition,” Stiles begins, ignoring the disbelieving snort that Kali lets out. It didn’t matter, _she_ didn’t matter. Stiles was sure Deucalion was smart enough to know Stiles’ power, even if the she-wolf did not, _despite_ his display on her earlier,

“I know you are looking for Gerard.”

Stiles says it in a calm manner, smirking when the man’s eyebrows rise in surprise. Stiles hadn’t been sure whether or not the Alpha had known that Stiles had a front row seat to his memories. He doesn’t like that Deucalion was unaware of what he was doing, especially as he really had _no_ idea he had done it - or _how_. His smirk falls but instead of dwelling on the consent issues of delving into someone's mind without their knowledge he continues on.

“When we find him, I get his heart.”

“Sweetheart, what ever did he take from you?” The man asks, his face much softer than it previously was.

Stiles just looks down at that, his spark already raging under his skin even as he tries to push it down. Peter’s hand is once again firm on the back of his neck, though now only does so much. He is still is unable to answer, so he’s grateful when the Alpha only nods in acceptance, clearly dropping the subject.

Stiles steps closer to the man, facing him head on. “Alpha Deucalion, I submit to you as my Alpha, and wish to be granted entry into your pack.”

“I accept your submission, Spark Stilinski, and welcome you to my Pack.” With that, Deucalion leans forward, biting into Stiles’ neck with human teeth, licking a line from where the collar of Stiles shirt ends up to behind his ear. Stiles knows he’s leaving behind a thick layer of scent but can’t seem to be too upset about it as he feels pack bonds slowly form deep in his chest. Before he can step back Deucalion grips Stiles left forearm, Stiles copying the gesture, “Will you, Spark Stilinski, accept the honour of upholding the position of Emissary to the Alpha Pack under the lead of I, Alpha Deucalion.”

“It would be my honour to uphold the position of Emissary to the Alpha Pack under the lead of you, Alpha Deucalion.” The words had hardly left his lips before a wave of power rushes through him taking his _feet off the ground_ in its intensity. It’s reflected in his Alpha, the man's eyes flashing incredibly red even behind his glasses, glowing brightly as a rumble makes its way from his chest.

He takes a small step forward and places a small kiss on the Alpha’s cheek, flushing a little in embarrassment but trusting his instincts nonetheless.

He stands to the side and watches as Peter submits as well - the action much the same though the Deucalion face shifts, his skin darkening in his beta shift, jaw expanding to fit more teeth. He does bite into Peter gently and once teeth have pierced skin, Stiles feels that bond glow all the brighter, stronger now that there is an actual alpha anchoring them together and not just Stiles’ magic allowing him to stand in as one. Peter flashes him a smile full of sharp teeth and the bright, clear blue eyes of his wolf before he’s being smothered by Cora, both obviously overwhelmed by their bond reforming in such a strong way.

He stands next to Deucalion then, a small smile curling on his lips as warmth unfolds in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mention of Rape.
> 
> alright! this chapter you guys! it took me a few days to write, and because of the fact that i am uploading it a whole week early, i have nothing for next week, not even a loose outline. What's worse, I don't even have chapter eight of give me family written! UH! okay about this chapter! does know anyone know the two big changes that were made to this chapter? the first change is pretty major, while the second may be harder to see! if you do please comment it down below, i would love to know who remembers and if you wanna know just ask and i'll let ya know!!  
> this chapter was fun for me to write! i am increasingly excited about this fic as it changes and forms in my mind and becomes this new breathing thing. I already have one pretty great scene planned out for somewhere a fair few chapters into the future! i am so hoping that everyone keeps enjoying this fic, and I hope that everyone who is or has started school enjoys this double update, as it will probably never happen again, LOL!  
> i am so excited for this fic and everything i have planned, and like i said in my lasts authors note excited to be have so much free time in the near future to write, LOL! enjoy this you guys!!  
> thanks for reading and I always always love to read comments and to talk on tumblr!  
> [my tumblr!!!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


	6. I Like Stoves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no way Stiles is going to let his Pack stay in such vile conditions, not when he has a perfectly good house to bring them all too. It’s really a simple matter, thought it helps that Deucalion is firmly on his side in the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have edited each of the previously posted chapters and added updated versions to this fic. Reread if you would like - no changes to plot or over all story were made, just cleaned up my writing.
> 
> chapter beta'd by [thegirlwhoknits!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwhoknits/pseuds/thegirlwhoknits)

As it turned out, the pack had been staying in the abandoned bank that sat right at the edge of downtown, really more a part of the warehouse district. It was a large, empty building that hadn’t been used for anything in years. Breaking in had long since become boring for teenagers, and no one even wandered by at this point. It was a place nearly everyone was aware of but no one thought about. Frankly, Stiles had no idea why the building was still standing, especially given the shape it was in.

Weather-worn, the bank was nearly devoid of windows—they’d all been broken through years ago. The building itself was beyond run down: empty slots in the bricking, foliage running up and down the outer walls, though there were a few vines that seemed to have made their way into the windows. The inside wasn’t much better. A heavy layer of dust and dirt had settled over everything. Cora led them further into the building, up to a few upstairs offices they were using as bedrooms. 

The boy had to admit they were in much better condition than the rest of the building, obviously cleaned out and well maintained. Cora was on her own, a double mattress and boxspring laying without a frame against the back wall. There were two duffel bags, which she appeared to be living out of, and a smaller bag that held her toiletries. There was a laptop plugged in and charging on the floor. Stiles knew what he was seeing could be a lot worse (though he did wonder why this place still had  _ any _ power turned on).

Even though the room was improvement over the rest of the building, it was still dirty. He wasn’t sure  _ any  _ room in this building would ever again be truly clean, though Cora didn’t seem as though she minded. And still, Stiles couldn’t imagine what it could be like to possibly  _ live _ there. 

“No more of this,” Stiles said when they all met in the ‘common’ room. There were two mini-fridges, with a microwave oven sitting atop one and a coffee maker on the floor. 

“Pardon?” Deucalion asked. The man hadn’t strayed far from Stiles’ side the entire walk back, and had stayed close during the little tour.

Stiles understood it, anyway. The bond they had formed was so  _ new _ and it felt incredibly fragile. Stiles wanted to protect it, to hold it close and keep it safe, and it didn’t help that it was also the warmest thing Stiles had ever felt, strumming strong between them with their shared power. Stiles could almost feel the extra magic he’d be able to access, how if needed to he’d be able to draw upon the older wolf’s power. It was an exciting prospect, especially with just  _ how  _ strong the man was. 

That was also a tricky road to go down, as Stiles knew just how the man had received his power. He could understand, though only to a point. Stiles had no idea what it might feel like to be betrayed by his own beta, especially to be betrayed by one's beta during a time of healing, of need. Deucalion should have been surrounded by his pack after the accident, the shared power flowing freely from Alpha to Beta as the man healed. But instead of that he had been challenged, his Right Hand using his impairment to his advantage.

To be in so much pain, so much  _ agony,  _ and then to be assaulted suddenly with such a surge of power—to get one's eyesight back if only for a moment—well, Stiles could imagine the temptation. He’s not sure he would have done anything different in the man's place. And he couldn’t fault him for a stint with insanity—goddess knew how wholeheartedly he’d forgiven Peter. What happened to Deucalion was horrible in its own right.

It was everything after that he was having trouble with. Though as he looked around the dirty, used couches littering the room, he knew this wasn’t the time. “No more of this. We’re leaving.”

“ _ Excuse me _ ?” Kali snarled, her top lip pulling back at the perceived order. Stiles could feel the hostility rushing through their bond, but said nothing. 

“I said, we’re leaving.” Stiles stated, staring at her for another moment before turning back to his Alpha. “I’m not letting our pack stay here. You can all stay at mine until we can find something better for all of us.”

“And we’re coming with you  _ why _ ?” the she-wolf spat, eyes bleeding red.

Before Stiles could say anything, Deucalion began, voice cold and the order unmistakable, “ _ Enough _ , Kali. It would do you well to show some respect to your pack members, especially those with more power than you.”

“Is that a threat?!”

“No!” Stiles jumped in, voice going high, “ _ No _ , no one is being threatened. If you want to sleep on a dirty mattress in this heap of shit,  _ be my guest _ . The rest of you can come over if you would like. I at least have a stove.”

“I like stoves,” One of the twins said, earning a smile from Cora. 

“It’s settled,” Deucalion said, and there was no question whether or not it was an order.

* * *

 

Stiles was not expecting the car park he saw.

He never assumed that the Alphas were poor, but he knew none of them held steady jobs - there was no way they  _ could _ while traveling as often as they did. He did know they often found part-time work where they were staying, and if they often stayed in places like this, Stiles was sure they could rack up a bit of money between the four of them who  _ were _ able to work. But even so, Stiles was near certain they should in no way be able to afford the collection of vehicles he saw before him.

There were two twin motorcycles, both shiny black with smooth lines. Stiles watched with a spike of envy as the twins mounted the bikes, helmets nowhere in sight as they talked quietly with one another. Scott’s dirt bike was a joke in comparison. There was an oversized black Jeep that he had to guess belonged to Ennis just by the man's sheer size. His thoughts were confirmed when the man clambered in, easily climbing into its raised seating. The third was a gorgeous affair, shiny black with smooth curves and looking entirely too expensive for the run-down pavement it was parked on. 

“Would you mind driving, Stiles?” Deucalion asked, hands folded atop his cane as stood next to the passenger door. Stiles nearly tripped over his own feet at the request, turning to stare wide-eyed at the man. The boy hadn’t noticed him leaving his side, too caught up in staring at the vehicles in front of him. 

He could feel the anger rolling off Kali, and not just through their new pack bond. His magic was picking it up as well, the emotion she was putting out incredible in its intensity—and there was no doubt that driving was her usual job. He could only nod though, and mutter out a quiet, “Sure,” before turning to Peter. The man was watching him closely, but Stiles could tell he his had his senses trained on Kali, and for good reason. 

“Who is Peter going to drive with?” he asked, his magic itching under his skin. He wouldn’t leave the man alone if he could help it, not with these people. 

“He can sit in the back with me!” Cora offered quickly, shooting the Spark a small smile that he easily returned, glad he wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to leave Peter with Kali and Ennis. He didn’t trust them, not yet.

He had seen more of Deucalion than just the man’s memories. The trip into his mind had left him privy to some of the man’s most withheld and private thoughts. Stiles still felt horrible about it, doubly so when he realized the man would have no idea what had been done. It had been far too intimate for two people who until this night had been essentially enemies—definitely on different sides of the line the Alpha pack had so clearly drawn in the sand. It didn’t feel right to know so much about the older man, and Stiles wished he hadn’t seen what he had.

Purposeful or not, Stiles felt like he had violated the Alpha. But now wasn’t the time to think about it.

Instead he sent a little of his spark at Peter, letting his magic wrap around  _ his _ Beta. It layered over the man's skin, adding a solid layer of protection. It was the most he could do at the moment, and it hardly made him feel as secure as he would have liked, but he couldn’t do more. Instead he sent the man a smile, brushing his fingers over the back of his neck as he walked past, leaving behind a bit of his scent.

“Okay, yeah,” Stiles said, finally walking over and grabbing the keys from Deucalion’s hand, rounding the car carefully. It was intimidating, to say the least, and when he opened the door and looked at the interior Stiles thought his mouth was going to water. It wasn’t like he was a huge car fan, because he honestly wasn’t. But that didn't mean he didn’t understand how  _ nice _ this one was, or that it left him ignorant to how much it must have cost. 

He slid in as carefully as he could, his ratty Converse entirely inadequate next to the interior. He was distinctly aware that he’d worn these jeans three times without washing them and that he had no idea when the last time he might have washed his hoodie was. He felt almost dirty, trying to sit in the seat in a way that let as little of his attire touch the leather as possible. 

“Calm down,” Deucalion muttered at his side, voice a deep rumble. Stiles nodded, feeling beyond silly when he remembered the man wouldn't be able to see it. Instead of answering he sucked in a huge breath, holding it for a moment before slowly letting it go. He calmed his mind, forcing himself to think of nothing more than his breathing, the feel of the leather against his skin, the slight breeze from the still open door.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, softly closing the door beside him before turning to the older man. “I think I just needed a moment.”

“That's quite alright,” Deucalion said quietly, smiling softly. 

It was… well, it was strange. Stiles knew so much about what the man had done, knew almost all the evil he had committed. But—but he felt  _ safe. _ Stiles wasn’t sure if it was due to the bond they had, and how strong the bond seemed to be. He wasn’t sure if it was because of how much power they each held, or because he had invaded the man's mind, but something about the soft tether of light that was tying them together made Stiles feel infinitely more guilty for what he had done.

He heaved a sigh, resting his hands heavy on his thighs as he tried to think of how to come out with it. If he was going to know more about the man than even he wanted to, he figured the best thing to do would to be let him know—but he was also hesitant to admit that he had no idea what he had been doing at the time. The Alpha pack was strong. The amount of collective power they held was staggering, and Stiles had only briefly felt it back at the bank. He doesn't want his Alpha thinking he might not measure up; that he might be unable to be a competent Emissary. 

He was still fiddling with his fingers, anxiously wringing them together, when one of Deucalion’s hands settled atop both of his. The man’s skin was warm against his own—his fingers were calloused where they wrapped around Stiles’. The gesture was comforting, but the feelings Deucalion was projecting down the bond were more so. 

“Sorry,” he said again, trying to settle his fingers before turning to face the man, “Okay, so. Right. When—when we were in the clearing, I uh, I-”

“Took a look into my memories?” the Alpha supplied, a small grin on his face.

“What?!” Stiles exclaimed, jumping a little in his seat. The whole time, the man had already known?

“Did you think I hadn’t felt it as well?” Deucalion asked.

“Well obviously I thought you didn’t know!” Stiles said, throwing his hands out.

“I… well, I understand why you would do that,” the man began, moving his hand higher up and rubbing at Stiles’ wrist with his fingertips, “It was a smart move—to go as deep as you did. It’s one of the reasons I asked you to become my Emissary.”

“I-” The boy began, but faltered. This wasn’t what he wanted, the disappointment. He hadn’t  _ meant _ to spell Deucalion, had no idea how he even had, but he didn’t want the other man to think lowly of him for it. He didn’t—he didn’t want to show weakness and risk the man abandoning him. He couldn’t handle losing a second pack, even if this one was still so new, the members so distant to him. The bonds were so much stronger though—their bonds with Deucalion all but transferring over to himself in their intensity.

No, he wouldn't be able to handle it if these bonds were broken as well. 

But he couldn’t lie, not about this. It didn’t feel right to let the man think he invaded his privacy on purpose, especially when he hadn’t meant to.

“It was, well, it was an accident,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m sorry I ever saw so much.”

Deucalion smiled softly at that, the expression entirely foreign on the man’s face. It wasn't a bad look, and Stiles figured he would be fine if he saw it more often. “I could tell that too. You didn't recover nearly as well as you thought you did. Your surprise was entirely obvious—or did it escape your mind that I could smell your emotions?”

The man's tone was teasing, though Stiles did blush. He  _ had _ actually forgotten. 

“Look, Stiles, it doesn’t matter. I knew you didn't do it on purpose, and that may be the best part. The amount of power you have is—well, it’s extraordinary.  _ Of course  _ I’d want you as my Emissary.”

“Oh. Alright, cool.”

* * *

 

The drive itself was quiet, Stiles sporting a small smile. He was thankful for what Deucalion had said, and it turned out to be exactly what he needed, even if he hadn’t quite known it. It did reassure him though, and it was enough to make the ride home pleasant. Stiles made sure to keep the back of his mind focused on Peter, making sure the Beta was okay the whole time. It wasn’t so much that he thought Kali would  _ actually _ do something to the man, he just didn't trust her enough not to, and that was enough reason for him to be cautious.

All was well when they pulled into his driveway, though. The drive over had been incredibly fun—the car’s engine literally purring as he drove it. Even on the bumpy back roads it drove smoothly, all but gliding over the ground. When they drove on a long, straight strip of street, Stiles floored the engine, shouting out with glee as the car raced to comply. Deucalion had laughed as well, and Stiles felt lighter than he had in a long, long time. 

Clambering out of the car, Stiles tried his best to be careful, not willing to harm such a beautiful vehicle. The bikes and Jeep were all parked in front of Stiles’ house, and his own Jeep was taking up half the driveway. He hoped his dad wouldn’t be too mad about them stealing his spot—especially with the news he would be coming home to—and would just park behind the Jeep. 

Really, he was entirely too thankful to see that his father wasn’t home. He had no idea how to explain to the man that the group of people they had gone to stop, to protect the Hale pack from, were now for all intents and purposes family. That they were  _ pack _ , and what pack meant and what Stiles had done, bonding with the Alpha as his Emissary. He knew his dad would be far from pleased, but Stiles just hoped Peter would be able to reason with him. 

Which really might be difficult, since even Peter didn’t know why Stiles had decided to trust the Alphas. He would have to tell Peter soon—not only because he had discovered a new aspect of his magic and was quite proud of it, but because the man deserved to know why he had submitted to a new Alpha. It wouldn’t be fair to keep the information private, at least, not all of it. 

“I thought you had a key now?” Stiles teased, hip-checking Peter out of the way when the man didn't move. 

“Oh hush!” Peter admonished, but Stiles was sure the man was blushing. Stiles just grinned, ridiculously pleased that two people he cared about so much were so happy, and  _ together _ at that. And besides, it wasn’t as though he didn’t totally think they were awesome together.

“What’s that about?” Cora asked, face lighting with joy at the prospect of having something to tease her uncle with.

“Peter is dating my dad,” Stiles informed her, smiling when she squealed and Peter shot a harsh glare at him.

“Oh, Peter’s got a  _ boyfrie-end _ !” Cora sing-songed, stretching out the word and smirking at the older man as Stiles watched, laughing, continuing into his house. 

He went straight for the kitchen, turning the oven on to preheat and looking through the freezer. There was  _ probably  _ enough for everyone, but with wolves it was all but impossible to know. Either way he pulled all seven pizzas out, cringing a little at what they must have cost. That was seven entire meals being eaten in one night—something they really couldn’t get away with. 

“Thank you.” 

Stiles startled at the noise, turning to quickly to see Ennis towering just inside the doorway. The man looked uncomfortable, but his back was still straight, his shoulders thrown back. He made an intimidating figure, and would even if Stiles didn’t already know he was a werewolf.

“Sure?”

“For opening up your home, I mean. Thank you,” the wolf clarified, still looking straight at Stiles.

Stiles just stared for a moment, admittedly having no idea in what the hell was happening in front of him. This was definitely something he had never expected, and he was rather unequipped to handle it. Finally he muttered out a hesitant, “Uh, no problem?”

When the man finally left the kitchen Stiles sighed, sliding the first two pizzas into the oven once the preheat light went off.

It was going to be an interesting night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am **BACK** with this fic!
> 
> I want to start off my saying sorry for such the long hiatus. It was never, never my intention to do that with this fic. I just got caught up in life - and September was a bad month for me. I barely wrote a single word, but came back pretty strong in October. Now, as you may now, I was participating in NANOWRIMO and have even set a few different daily challenges for myself! As I'm writing this it is only the second day, but so far I am more than enjoying myself with it! I want to write, write, write! 
> 
> So back with this chapter! i am so happy to be back to my writing, and am having a grand time! This is the last chapter that will explicitly follow the original story line, everything from here on out is new, new, new!! I am so excited about that, and cannot wait to keep going with this story! 
> 
> I don't have much else to say for this chapter, other than I am so sorry it took my three whole months to get up new content. At this point I should have two more chapters completely written, and will be finishing up another two the following week - so be ready for reliable weekly updates!!
> 
> \- Shit, it's here. I can't believe I am finally getting around to posting this. AH, I am so excited to be writing for this story again 
> 
> Thanks so much!  
> [my tumblr!!!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


	7. Come To Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner, cuddling, nightmares oh my! Basically, domestic!pack fluff!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for warning.
> 
> chapter beta'd by [thegirlwhoknits!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwhoknits/pseuds/thegirlwhoknits)

As it turned out, seven frozen pizzas were not enough food to feed a pack of Alphas, two Betas, and a powerful Spark.

Deucalion had walked into the kitchen, firmly told Stiles that there was no way there’d be enough food at the house to feed them all, and then proceeded to order pizza. A _lot_ of pizza. It hadn’t taken long to get there—surprising, given the size of their order—but Deucalion had kept him pleasant company in the kitchen, leaning against the island with his folded cane in his hand.

As it turned out, Deucalion was kind of funny. He certainly had a dry wit that Stiles adored, and his accent just made everything sound _better_ . And alright, Stiles could admit that the man's jaw—dusted with stubble as it was—plus that accent was an intriguing combination. He wasn’t, like, attracted, but Stiles did find himself staring a little more than he maybe should have. And alright, maybe he was a _little_ attracted. Only a little.

But.

Stiles wasn’t often one to deny himself things he enjoyed, and he enjoyed looking at Deucalion. He did try not to think about it too much, though, not sure what his scent might be giving away. That could be entirely too embarrassing, and it wasn’t like it was his fault he was a teenage boy with teenage-boy-level hormones. He was attracted to what he was attracted to—and apparently middle-aged, British Alphas with homicidal tendencies did it for him.

Whatever. Luckily he was saved from further thought when the doorbell rang, and the rest of his new pack piled into the kitchen to eat. The Alphas remained standing, though Deucalion took a seat beside him at the table, joined by Peter and Cora. The other four still seemed tense, especially Kali where she stood straight-backed. Ennis seemed more relaxed since he had spoken to Stiles and said his peace. It was something appreciated, and it felt nice when Deucalion had repeated the sentiment. It felt good, like he was providing for _his_ pack.

Stiles hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the Alpha set a large pizza down in front of him and he dug in, tucking away slices quicker than he knew he was capable of. The oven pizzas had all gone to Ennis, who didn’t enjoy all the grease that pizzaria pies often had. The boy was glad, since letting that much food go to waste would have been _horrible_.

Most of the meal was quiet, and clean up was quick. The pizza company had sent a ridiculous amount of paper plates with all their pizzas, so Stiles just gathered them up. There was no way he would be able to keep with the amount of dishes they would be generating, so if he could reuse them he would. He piled up the pop cans they had all ordered, too.

Afterward, he directed everyone into the living room, _his_ pack sprawling out along the furniture after Peter and Cora had made themselves comfortable. It was probably obvious just how much time Peter had been spending there recently, the way his scent must be ingrained in the room. And by the way Cora was smirking, Stiles could guess the man would be getting teased in the near future.

They hardly had enough furniture for everyone. The twins took up the love seat, Cora sitting in the lap of the same one who haed mentioned his affection for stoves at the bank. Ennis was sitting in the sheriff's armchair, looking entirely comfortable. His eyes were half-lidded as he leaned back and pulled up the foot rest, settling in. Kali was still standing, leaning against the entryway to the living room, and Stiles could see the tense lines of her shoulders across the room. Peter and Deucalion both sat  on opposite ends of the couch and Stiles found himself between them, the warm line of Deucalion’s body close enough for him to feel.

The TV was playing, though he wasn’t sure if anyone other than Peter and Kali were watching it. Cora and the twins were having their own soft conversation, and Ennis still appeared to be—well, Stiles was pretty sure the man was actually asleep.  As for himself, he focused inside his chest, looking at his newly acquired pack bonds and poking them with glee. He was having entirely too much fun doing so, and since Deucalion wasn’t saying anything, he didn’t stop.

It was strong, the bond he shared with his Alpha. He could so clearly feel what the other man did, and Stiles was sure that with practice they could send thoughts along the line. He’d never expected a pack bond to feel like this; there were so many different layers to it, beautiful in their complexity. It was large and bright inside of Stiles’ chest, the bond connecting an Alpha to an Emissary, and it thrummed with a power of its own, a separate thing from either man. It was gorgeous, the combination of both their power.

Something on the TV exploded, and Stiles slumped a little more to the side. He wasn’t so much cuddling as sucking heat from the man’s body, but it felt good either way. When Deucalion lifted his arm to settle it over Stiles’ shoulders and pull the boy closer—confident and sure in his welcome—Stiles went with it, let himself be pulled and turned his torso to cuddle closer, wrapping an arm around the man’s waist.

It was warm, incredibly so, but Stiles wasn’t complaining. Deucalion smelled like pine, fresh and crisp where Stiles’ face was pressed into his shoulder. The whole scene reminded him of past Christmases, curling up against his father on the couch, half asleep as holiday movies played on the TV. They always got the biggest tree his mother could find and spent days decorating it before even thinking about declaring it done.

He felt much like he had then, safe and content and warm. He curled up closer, face heating in a blush when the man holding him brushed a kiss against his forehead. He wasn’t sure what he was projecting along the bond, but Deucalion felt settled. Happy, content, and just a little smug when Stiles rubbed his face into the man's’ chest, leaving his scent in Deucalion's shirt.

He heard Peter chuckle behind him but ignored the man's ridicule, instead letting his eyes drop closed.

* * *

Stiles never quite fell asleep, but he toyed with the line of consciousness for a while. It was nice to just drift that way, unbelievably comfortable. He was aware of the passing time, knew that eventually he would have to move, but the man he was basically laying on was warm; hard muscles proving to be a far better pillow that he would’ve thought. He wondered what it would be like to lay himself over the man, settling his body atop the Alpha’s completely.

Deucalion hummed and tightened his hold, his lips once again brushing Stiles’ hairline, further pulling Stiles into wakefulness. He whined softly in protest, comfortable where he was, but the man's answering chuckle vibrated through his head and he finished waking, rolling to his other side to get to Peter. The other wolf let him cuddle close and rub his face all over his neck, leaving behind his scent and feeling his spark settle a little at the action.

He knew his magic didn’t get anything from the action, that something like scent was entirely irrelevant to him. It still made him feel lighter knowing that other supernaturals would be able to smell Stiles on the man, that their bond would be obvious. He’s already started to think of Peter as a father figure, and he thought he might have eventually come to the same conclusion even if the wolf hadn’t been dating his dad.

With a sigh he flopped back, starfishing himself on the couch and hitting both men beside him with his limbs. He grinned when they mock-growled at the same time, the two turning to face each other. Peter’s brows were high, but then he laughed, Deucalion following suit. It seemed to drain any tension that had been in the room. Even Kali relaxed further against the wall, and Stiles was beyond glad.

“Alright, so we have a guest bedroom upstairs, that Kali and Ennis can have? And there’s a really comfortable couch in the basement, if someone wants that. The couch up here has a fold-out mattress, too,” Stiles informed them, watching as Cora grinned wickedly at the twin whose lap she had her feet in. The boy just sighed and shoved her feet off, rolling his eyes as his brother smirked at him.

“I’ll take the couch, those two can have the bed,” he said, though he didn’t feel seriously upset over the bond, and Stiles was beginning to think this sort of teasing between the three of them was normal.

“Okay, I think that settles it?” he said, and ignored the way Peter was smirking at him—because _how did he even know_?!

He stood then, ignoring the wolf and instead pulling Deucalion up with him, blinking shyly when the man stood. It was—easier, in the dark. Now he had no idea how to bring it up, but he knew what he wanted. And he just wanted to be close. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was feeling for the man—whether it was a reaction to their newly formed bond or what—but he knew Deucalion was feeling it too, both of them itching to remain close.

It was with that thought that he continued to pull the man up the stairs, leading him with a hand on his wrist. Peter followed behind them without saying a word.

There was a brief flicker of worry along the bond when he reached the last step, and he smiled to himself, sending reassurance along the bond he shared with his Beta. Thankfully Peter let it go after that, only sending Stiles one final look before he stepped into his dad’s room.

Stiles walked into his own, the Alpha now dutifully trailing behind him, the man's hand settled on the low of Stiles’ back—really right above the swell of his ass—as he let Stiles continue to lead him. The soft click of the door shutting behind them sounded entirely too loud, and Stiles had never been good with silence.

“I figured we could share? It’s a queen, so there's plenty of space?” Not a lie, and Stiles was pleased to note that his heart didn’t stumble and his voice sounded far more convincing that he felt.

“Sounds amenable,” Deucalion said just as softly, though his voice was nowhere as sure as Stiles would’ve expected. The man was just standing there, his back a stiff line, unmoving. Stiles wasn’t even convinced Deucalion was breathing, but he moved further into his room anyway, not quite sure how to handle the situation

“So, I’m going to get undressed?” He said it like a question, in case that’s what was making the man feel so uncomfortable.

He could be reading it wrong, but he knew the man was attracted to him; he felt it when he was looking through their bond. It was also decidedly mutual, but wasn’t not as though Stiles was going to act on it after the few hours they’d been bonded. They weren’t going to do anything other than sleeping, that much was obvious to him, and he wasn’t sure why the man would be hesitant to share the bed.

Stiles tugged out of his clothes, not worrying about putting on a show since the man couldn’t see it anyway, though it didn’t mean he was any less calm. Stiles was still grateful that Deucalion kept his face turned away, though the man's shoulders were still a sharp line. It worried Stiles, and made him nervous to feel around their bond. There weren’t any emotions being emitted strong enough for him to feel outright, but he knew it would only take a little effort to know what the man was thinking.

“I-I’m undressed now,” he said into the silence, because he didn’t know what else to do, how else to get the man to move.

He wished he could say otherwise, but he watched as Deucalion stripped out of his slacks, his shirt soon following. In just a pair of briefs the man was stunning, and it was enough to make Stiles’ heart double in speed. It only quickened when the Alpha held out the shirt he’d just taken off, though the slight shake of his hand belied his faux confidence. Stiles _did_ take it and quickly put it on, twisting his torso and moving his arms slightly, liking how loosely it laid on him.

He settled himself on the edge of his bed and waited. Deucalion was still standing stiffly, though he had a faint smile on his face as he scented the air, obviously pleased. It was an adorable sight, and one Stiles hoped he never forgot—Deucalion standing there, head cocked slightly to the side as he sniffed at the air, smiling softly to himself.

He… he couldn’t help but be distracted, though. There was so much _skin_ , and Stiles wanted to look everywhere, but the man still hadn’t moved, hands still clenched into tight fists at his side. Their bond was screaming at him, _uglyworhtlessnotenough,_ and he stepped towards Deucalion slowly, gently letting his hands trail from the man's shoulders to his face, where he grabbed at the dark glasses. It was entirely more intimate than Stiles intended, though he didn’t feel uncomfortable.

So far Deucalion had felt nothing less than safe, and that hadn’t changed even now. He rubbed gentle thumbs along the bottom of the man's glasses, smiling softly at the soft inhale the man made. It was … it was—fuck if Stiles knew. All he knew was that their bond was screaming with potential, and he knew so much could happen.

But he pulled himself back, and instead let the other man make the decision. He didn’t want the bond to be the only reason something happened—and Stiles wasn’t even entirely sure if what he was feeling was being reciprocated.

“It’s—it’s far from pretty,” Deucalion said, lips twisted upward, though the look was more a grimace than a smile.

“I—it’s okay. I don’t care,” Stiles said just as softly, finally taking the glasses off the man's face and settling them onto his bedside table. They were… they _were_ bad. Dark red and painful looking, pulling tight at the surrounding skin. They covered a fair portion of the man's face, but they really didn’t bother Stiles. He ran the tip of his finger over a long one, not stopping even as Deucalion sucked in a sharp breath of air.

“Come to bed,” he whispered, and stepped back, the man following behind him.

* * *

 Stiles woke up too warm, squirming and kicking at his covers to try and cool down. His foot hit flesh and he struggled harder, the arm wrapped around his waist tightening as he was pulled tighter against someone's body. Stiles fought, lashing out as he tried to get free. No— _no_. He had said no, he had said no, and Gerard didn’t care, didn’t—he didn’t care. Stiles tried to wiggle free, but the grip Gerard had on him was too tight, and he couldn't move, couldn’t get out.

He - he knew the cement had been cold, hard against his cheek as he was held down. It didn't feel like cement now, but that didn’t matter, Gerard was there holding tight and—and -. He sucked in a sharp breath to try and relieve the burning of his chest, and fought harder, kicking out a leg behind him and throwing out his elbow.

Gerard grunted behind—his voice sounded off, different than his moaning had been, at least. Stiles pushed again, trying to scramble away, and—falling? The weight around him was gone and he lost his balance, falling to the floor and hitting it hard. He crawled away, _awaygetawayyouhavetogetaway!_ He pulled himself into the corner, wrapping his arms tight around himself. Gerard was saying his name, but his voice, his voice, his -

 _Peter_.

His eyes flew open, staring straight into the electric blue eyes of his Beta, and he launched himself forward, burying himself in the man's chest. He breathed deeply, not daring to close his eyes even though the only thing he could see was the pink of Peter’s nipple right next to his face. He let himself calm, trying to will away the too-vivid flashback. He’d never… he had never had a nightmare that bad before, never woken up so disoriented and confused.

Usually, he screamed himself into consciousness, his father only holding him close once Stiles became aware of where he was—that he wasn’t still in his dream. This time had been different, drifting into consciousness already being held, his body already pressed tight to his Alpha. He heard a loud groan from across the room, and his head snapped up. Deucalion.

The man was crumpled against the floor, plaster covering his body from where Stiles had thrown him into the wall. The man blinked his eyes open,his mess of scars clear now without his glasses, and he felt more than heard Peter’s heartbeat tick at the sight. The man looked towards Stiles, and the boy felt his bond hum loudly, apology and regret heavy between them.

Stiles stood shakily, pushing up against Peter’s shoulders to help himself stand, and made his way over. His knees still shaky as the adrenaline fled his body, leaving him feeling too weak, too fragile. He dropped onto his knees in front of Deucalion, discomfort, concern, and remorse heavy in his chest. It was such a contrast to what Stiles had felt the night before, the heady feeling of acceptance and affection, even the soft attraction as they had cuddled on the couch.

He pulled Deucalion close, tucking himself into the man's chest much the same he had with Peter, and pulling the man's arms around himself when Deucalion didn’t initially move. The man was—well, not staring, but his face was tilted towards Stiles’, his lips pulled down in a frown and brow bone drawn downwards. The boy just sighed, all but climbing into Deucalion's lap and poking him in the side until he gave in, hugging Stiles tight.

He wanted to make sure Deucalion knew that it wasn’t his fault, that it wasn’t something that the man had done. He just wanted Deuc to smile again, for the _imsorrystoplookingatmeuncomfortableworhtless_ that was repeating through their bond to stop. It had been so different the night before, when he had slowly climbed in beside Stiles, as though doubtful of the entry Stiles was gladly granting him, but not daring to let it slip away.

He sighed against the man's neck, breathing in deeply. Now that he was out of the nightmare, he just wanted to be close, didn’t care about the other energies he could feel in the room—though he did send a hefty amount of reassurance down the bond at Peter. He really was okay—shaken, sure, and feeling infinitely safer with someone holding him—but he was okay. It wasn’t even the worst nightmare he’d had, just the worst reaction to one.

But the Alpha was holding on tight as well, and hopefully—hopefully he _got_ it. Stiles had never thought he would see such a vulnerable side to the man, be _allowed_ to. But he had, right before he’d taken off the man's glasses, and he was thankful for it. It felt… it felt like forgiveness, for looking into the man's mind earlier, like the man was showing Stiles a hidden part of himself voluntarily.

Stiles appreciated that, far more than he knew how to express so he sent his gratitude down their bond, smiling into the man's skin when he was hugged tighter.

“Stiles, why is the grown man you’re sitting on not wearing any clothing?” his dad asked, voice firm. He chanced a glance at the man, breathing out a little sigh when his dad didn’t appear to be _too_ mad, mostly concerned.

He raised a brow at his father and looked unimpressed at the man's neck. “Ya know, I’m not sure your uniform is going to cover all those—bruises.”

He smirked while his dad stood there, mouth gaping open even as one hand raised to cover his neck. The man turned his glare to Peter, and all the other man did was smirk as well, flashing his eyes bright blue. Stiles giggled at the exchange, settling firmer against his Alpha. The man’s emotions were calmer, hesitantly accepting Stiles’ weight and holding the boy close.

It was nice to be so close to his Alpha. Their bond was still shining bright and new between them, and Stiles knew he would do whatever it took to keep it strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Warning: Mention of rape, vague description and slight flashback._
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>  [my tumblr!!!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)
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> 
> okay! So this is where the fic really begins to divert from the original plot/story line, and where the changes begin to be made. It may not be as glaringly obvious in the chapter, but it will become so!! I am so so excited because this essentially means it is not a whole new story, and all the new fic I have been planning out in my months can finally be written!! It is making me so so so excited!!! also you have probably already noticed, but this is actually when I decided to go in and add summaries for each of my chapters, lol!
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> GAH, DOMESTIC PACK FEELS AM I RIGHT!!
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> aren't they just so cute!! and the little vulnerability that Deuc shows just melted me fucking heartttt! alas, I hope you have been enjoying the new chapters, as well as enjoyed the rewrites of all the old ones!!!!!
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> [my tumblr!!!!!!](http://brandileeder.tumblr.com)


	8. Dude, You're Our Emissary Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast is had, things are thought about and then awkward conversations that turn out to be … not so awkward?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter beta'd by [thegirlwhoknits!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwhoknits/pseuds/thegirlwhoknits)

Stiles’ father didn’t force him to go into school that morning, and for that he was grateful. There was no way Stiles would have been prepared to face his old pack. The boy was sure they would question him, most likely accuse him, and there was no way Derek would be happy about what happened. Well, Stiles  _ did _ get his Betas back; there was a chance Derek would give him some leeway for that.

Most likely, he would just be mad that he hadn’t been able to do so himself.

It didn’t matter, since Stiles didn’t plan on leaving house for the day. He was still feeling wrung out from his nightmare, and emotionally exhausted from the ensuing panic. He had crawled back into bed and pulled Deucalion with him, trying to soothe the man's guilt. It really wasn’t his fault, hadn’t had anything to do with Deucalion at all. Stiles didn’t blame him, especially as he invited the man into his bed in the first place.

Stiles had gotten to sleep a little better afterward. The second time he went to bed he curled himself around Deucalion, tucking the man's back to his chest and pulling him close, nuzzling at the Alpha's neck. He hadn’t woken from a nightmare later that morning, thankfully, but he was near certain that if he had, he would’ve been fine, that having Deuc in his arms maybe would have helped.

He climbed down the stairs, anxiety settling in his gut. He knew bringing Deucalion to bed hadn’t been the best idea, could see that clearer now than last night. It was just, their bond had been glowing so beautifully between them, the connection the two lighting up so pretty. It had been so easy to lose himself inside of it, let the easy intimacy they shared be magnified by their bond. 

But Stiles was thinking clearly now, and he could see how—sudden, his actions were. 

Their bond had just been so strong, so sweet and alluring twined between them. Stiles wasn’t even sure if everything he thought he was feeling for Deucalion—the acceptance, the appreciation, the soft attraction—was genuine, or if it was something crafted from the bond. Hell, they’d just met; Stiles had no idea why he would have let the man sleep in his bed, let alone allow Deucalion up curl up behind him.

He had no idea how he’d felt so safe, how he could possibly warm to the man so quickly. It  _ had _ to have something to do with the bond, but—but Stiles wasn’t even sure he wanted it to stop. He  _ liked _ the attention, the way Deucalion felt pulsing in his chest and how the man's hand had felt around his in the car, or how his chest had felt against his cheek, or his back to Stiles’ chest. He liked having someone he could hold close, could count on to be there for him. 

But Stiles didn’t know anything of Deucalion other than what his research had provided and what he had glimpsed going inside the man's mind. It created two conflicting images; the two so different that he had trouble seeing them as the same person. The Demon Wolf was unforgiving, ruthless in his reign. He played at executioner with ease, seeming to have no problem with taking lives. 

But Stiles had seen more, had seen what Deucalion was and what he could have been. He had been a fair Alpha, kind in his reign, and he had listened to the opinions of his Betas, endlessly putting their needs before his own. He had cared for others; he had been a peacemaker. He tried for treaties with other packs, reached out when they needed help.

And Stiles could see him being that type of Alpha again;  _ wanted _ to see him be that sort of Alpha again. He didn’t know if he would be enough, but he was going to try to be. He had to. Stiles wanted to be part of a pack he was proud of, could put his faith into and gladly walk alongside. That wasn’t what the Alphas were now, but maybe they could be more. Stiles hoped they could. 

The kitchen was bustling with activity when Stiles finally stepped down from the last stair. He took a moment to watch, something warm and possessive curling inside his chest. His dad and Ennis were manning the stove side by side, while each of their mates sat on the island, watching. He wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with Kali sitting so close to Peter, but if the man felt safe there was nothing he could do about it.

He entered the room quietly, giving himself a moment to soak up the domesticity. Their kitchen wasn’t often a place where people gathered. Aside from the mandatory cooking he and his father did, they didn’t spend time in the room. It had been his mother's domain, a room where she held the reins, and it always felt too big without her laugh to fill it.

But watching his pack members move around it, Ennis towering in the space as he laughed deeply with Stiles’ dad, he felt something warm up inside him. It wasn’t the same as his mom humming to a tune only she heard, dancing around as his father watched, love-struck—but it was good, could maybe be great.

He leaned back into Deucalion’s chest, and the man letting out a surprised  _ ’oh’ _ . Their bond was so much stronger since the previous night, shining all the brighter between them. He’d been able to feel it when the Alpha finally woke, could track his energy as he moved down the stairs. 

He wasn’t sure just why he felt so safe, why he didn’t flinch when the man placeda loose hand around his waist, softly hugging him to his chest. It could be the bond influencing him, coaxing him into trusting his Alpha. 

The bonds he held with the other pack members—except Peter—weren’t nearly as strong, and he was hesitant to think why the one with Deucalion would feel like so much more. Yes, he knew a fair bit about Alpha/Emissary bonds. He’d done a good amount of reading and research when he thought he could maybe be that to Derek. So he knew about how strong they were, and how hard to break. 

Unless something happened, unless… unless Deucalion died, he would probably stay bonded to the Alpha for the rest of his life.That thought was a little overwhelming, and he tried not to let himself panic over it. He had known that going in, had known the gravity of the decision he was making back in the forest, but he hadn’t seen any other options. Not with the way the Hale pack had been acting. 

And even if he hadn’t been a part of the pack then, had already been pushed aside, he wasn’t going to let people he once cared for die. Not when he could have done something to stop it. And done something he had—even if the decision he went with had been on the extreme side. The Hale pack, his father, and the town were now safe from the Alphas. 

And with his father cooking alongside Ennis, Peter chatting with Kali, and Deucalion a warm weight at his back, he found it hard to think he’d made the wrong choice.

* * *

Breakfast turned into a louder affair than Stiles had ever experienced. The pack had set up in both the kitchen and the living room, the four-person table they had not enough to fit everyone. His father and Ennis had cooked more than enough, going through multiple cartons of eggs and cooking more breakfast meats than Stiles had ever imagined seeing at one time.

It was nice, the noise. Their house had been too quiet for too long after his mother's death, when there was only Stiles, far too young to be taking care of himself as he was. It wasn’t something he often thought about, not when it was so far in the past and so much had changed since that time. It wasn’t important anymore.

Not when their house now had so much life in it. Deucalion had followed Stiles into the living room with a hand to the small of his back. Stiles was quickly becoming used to leading the other man, and he wasn’t going to complain, not when Deucalion’s skin felt warm through the man's shirt, the one he had slept in and never changed out of.

He held Deuc’s plate as the man sat himself on the loveseat and Stiles followed, crossing his legs when he sat, a knee resting atop the Alpha’s thigh. The physical contact was still easy between them. Stiles knew there was a conversation they needed to have, but he wasn’t averse to putting it off. He didn’t want to find out that it was all the bond on Deucalion’s end. 

Stiles looked up when the twins and Cora entered the room. It was hard to tell them apart, even with their bonds shining within his chest. It was obvious that Cora favored one of them, and if Stiles let his magic rise in his chest, let it bleed into his eyes, he could see the tighter bond between those two. It was sweeter than the one Cora shared with the other twin and nothing like the one the two twins shared with one another.

“Cora is dating Aiden,” Deucalion said quietly into his ear, breath hot against his skin and making Stiles shiver. 

He could hardly do more than nod.

He looked at the three on the couch and closed his eyes, letting the pack bonds he could feel in his chest glow brighter. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking away his inner magic and focusing back to the present. Aiden’s bond was  _ sharper _ , than Ethan’s and now that he had figured that out he felt more comfortable with telling them apart.

His dad was seated in his armchair, Peter on the floor between his legs. Stiles felt a surge of emotion when he looked at them, his heart swelling in his chest as he smiled, leaning heavier into Deucalion’s side. The man said nothing about it, but their bond pulsed with warm acceptance, much sweeter than it had been earlier that morning.

Kali and Ennis had stayed in the kitchen, but Stiles didn’t mind. Instead he basked in the easy atmosphere of his pack. It was even softer than the night before, and his father being there made all the difference. This was his, _his_ _pack_ , his to protect and care for. He was going to take his oath seriously.

“So, what’s next, kiddo?” his dad asked, shocking Stiles out of his own mind. He hadn’t even realized that he’d finished eating, nor that Deucalion had deposited his plate on the side table for him.

“I’m not really sure?” Stiles admitted, shrugging his shoulders and looking around.

Ennis and Kali entered from the kitchen, Ennis sitting himself on the floor and Kali leaning against the wall like the she had the night before. Stiles hadn’t wanted to make any assumptions, didn’t want to push anyone into a decision they might be unhappy with. He still hadn’t known everyone well enough to know what they would want. He knew that would have to change.

“Well, we shall begin the search for a more permanent residence, of course.” Deucalion said it with an easy drawl, though Stiles felt how the man's arm tensed against his back.

“Hmm, I think that could be agreeable. John? How would you feel about moving?” Peter asked, leaning back against John’s legs. But Stiles watched how his dad tensed at the question, knew the mistake Peter had made.

“I feel like that’s not a conversation we’re going to be having in a room full of people, Peter.” There wasn’t any room for question in his voice and Peter just nodded, lowering his eyes. Stiles could see how the man's cheeks were beginning to heat in embarrassment.

“I want to go after Gerard!” Stiles blurted out, though he was quick to slap a hand over his mouth and look around, wide-eyed. Not what he’d meant to say, though both Peter and his dad were looking at him with thankful eyes.

“I—I just want to  _ sleep _ .” Stiles said, though he clenched his fists in his laps, looking down. “I don’t want to wake up scared again. And I don’t think that is going to be possible if he’s still alive somewhere.”

“It’s okay kiddo, I understand,” his dad told him. His words made Stiles feel light, reassured in a way he hadn’t realized he had been craving. 

“I’m up for some murdering,” Cora said, which worked to diffuse any lingering tension. Ennis chuckled deeply as he flashed his eyes, and Kali grinned.

“I… you guys don’t have to come. I can do it on my own,” Stiles said.

“Dude, you’re our Emissary now,” Aiden said, like that answered anything, instead of just making Stiles more confused.

“You may not feel it the way we do, but a bond with an Emissary is some pretty strong stuff. We  _ want _ to help you.” Ethan added, leaning across the room to offer Stiles a fist bump. Stiles gave him one, and he couldn’t quite keep down his smile.

“If you’re all sure?”

“Of course, darling.” Deucalion said quietly even as he placed a warm hand on Stiles’ thigh.

Stiles didn’t miss how his father’s eyes narrowed.

He was thankful for the warmth nonetheless.

* * *

“I feel like there is a conversation we need to be having,” his dad began, blocking the hall light as he stood in the doorway of Stiles’ bedroom.

Stiles had tensed, already knowing where this would be going. “I definitely feel like this is a conversation we  _ don’t _ need to be having.”

“Stiles,” John said on a sigh, and Stiles felt bad. It wasn’t that he planned on keeping anything a secret—he just didn’t want to be having this conversation. How was he supposed to explain to his dad the jumbled up mess of feelings that was his mind when even  _ he  _ didn’t know what was going on?

“Dad...”

“I’m serious, kiddo.” He entered the room then, planting both hands on his hips in his ‘sheriff’ pose.

It wasn’t nearly as intimidating to Stiles as it was to criminals

“Ugh, fine. Whatever, at least come inside so the whole damn house can’t hear everything,” Stiles knew his voice came out more of a whine, but he wasn’t able to bring himself to care. Instead he threw himself back on the bed and folded his arms.

“What - how would that make a difference?” His dad’s voice was confused, and Still felt bad again. He hadn’t been keeping his father updated with the progression of his magic. Instead, he’d been excitedly going to Peter every time he learned how to do something cool and exciting.

“I can soundproof the room?” Stiles said, raising his hands and letting his fingers spark for show. He closed his eyes and focused, pulled at his spark and willed it out from himself to cling to the walls. Then he pushed, forming a barrier to trap the sound in. 

“Huh,” his dad muttered and took a heavy seat in Stiles’ desk chair. The man let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping with it, and Stiles’ concern grew. His dad was obviously upset over something. Stiles sat straighter, already dreading the worse.

“How—how  _ would _ you feel about moving?” his dad said with a flinch, as if even the thought made him uncomfortable.

And that Stiles had not been expecting at all. He had known his father and Peter had left and gone for a fairly long drive, and Stiles assumed it had been to talk about the strange comment made after breakfast. But Stiles hadn’t been expecting  _ this _ . 

“I think I would be okay with it?” And it was true. He would miss the house, sure, but ever since he got in touch with his spark, since his magic kindled bright and happy inside his chest, he’d felt close to his mom in a way he hadn’t since her death. He was connected to her in a way he hadn’t been before, and he didn’t need more than that. 

But he knew his father didn’t have the same connection that Stiles did. While his mom lived on in the warm glow of Stiles’ chest, for his dad Claudia only lived on in his memories. “Would  _ you _ be okay with moving?”

“I don’t know,” his dad said, though his head hung low and his shoulders moved forward.

“I think Mom would be happy, that you found someone else. I can see how happy Peter makes you, Dad,” Stiles said quietly, stepping closer and laying a hand on his dad's shoulder, squeezing. Stiles wasn’t expecting his dad to cover his hand with his own, nor was he expecting the tight squeeze he got in return, but he let the moment happen and didn’t pull away. 

“The conversation with Peter went well?” Stiles asked after a long moment, letting his dad pull himself together as he walked back to the bed, dropping down with a bounce.

“God, that man is hard to say no to.” His dad exhaled, letting the tension bleed from his shoulders. Stiles couldn't help but smile just a little—John had never been very good at saying no to Claudia, either.

“I mean, I think you’re just weak-willed,” Stiles teased, smiling at his father. He was happy the man was moving on, especially after so many years. This was the first time his father had ever even dated anyone, and Stiles was more than thrilled that it was Peter. The man was becoming a large part of Stiles’ life, comforting and encouraging and supportive every time he helped Stiles with magic.

Not only that, but Peter had been spending so much time with them both, coming for dinner every night his father was home, and even some when he wasn’t, helping Stiles with his magic, or more often, his history homework. He cared for Peter, and not just because the wolf had been—was still—his Beta. He would have no problems with seeing Peter as a step-parent, was hoping for it. He saw how happy the two men were together and they both deserved it. 

“Weak-willed or not, kiddo, we may be moving,” his dad said.

“I mean, knowing Deucalion it’s probably going to be something outrageously big, so,” Stiles mentioned, already able to picture it.

“Hm, and what’s this about ‘knowing Deucalion’? Because that sure comes as a surprise to me,”  his dad said with a raised brow.

Stiles bit down on his lip for a long moment, trying to think about what  _ exactly _ he wanted to say. He knew he was going to be honest, of course he was, but he wasn’t sure what that even meant. 

“Uh, well this was a conversation I was going to have with both you  _ and _ Peter?”

“Why the both of us?”

“Well, Peter just kind of followed me? I wanted to explain to him  _ why _ .” Why he bonded with a murderous Alpha, why he felt so comfortable in the man's space, why he thought Deucalion was  _ safe _ .

“Okay, if you want we can wait and speak to Peter, but don’t think you’re going to get out of us talking about why there was a grown man sleeping in your bed last night.”

Stiles nodded, though he did dramatically groan as he threw himself back onto his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plans are being set into motion! i love how the pack is coming around Stiles and really accepting him into the pack as a full fledged member, and offering their help with something that has brought him such paid. just a warning, the next few chapters are not going to be very action-y. we've hit a point in the story where I will be building on the relationships on the pack members a bit more, and I am very excited for that. Which doesn't mean that there won't be action happening, it just means the next few chapters will be dialouge heavy!
> 
> I do hope you're enjoying the slower approach I am taking with this story, because I know i am. When I began this rewrite months ago, I wanted to calm everything down and take things at a slower rate. I am liking the speed of which things are moving on! 
> 
> Letting you guys know, there will not be a chapter next week! As you can tell, I upload this story every single Monday, and if you haven't noticed I also put out new fics on every thursday. I like this schedule, as it can guarantee that I am constantly putting out new content (i have until February of uploads planned out) With that being said, it made far more sense to post a Holiday fic on christmas then it did to post another chapter of this. So, there won't be one next week, But i'll be back January 1st with monday uploads! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!  
> [my tumblr!!!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


	9. Who Said I Was Playing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward conversations with parents - and whoa, when did he start thinking of Peter as a second parent - and even more awkward conversations with his Alpha. really, just a whole bunch of conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter beta'd by [thegirlwhoknits!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwhoknits/pseuds/thegirlwhoknits)

“You wanted to talk with me?” Peter asked as he entered the room, holding up his phone to show off the text he’d received from John.

Stiles smiled a little when the man shut the door behind him, scooting back on his bed so he was sitting against the headboard. He watched Peter place a kiss on the top of his dad’s head, running a few fingers along the back of the other man's neck. HIs dad didn’t even blink at the casual scenting.

He knew their relationship had grown, developing into something more serious, but Stiles felt as though he’d been so focused on himself—his magic and his training and school—that he hadn't noticed how close they had gotten. He felt bad, especially when both men were so active in his own life, Peter a willing sidekick in his magic lessons.

It had only been three weeks since that first time Peter stopped by with coffee and doughnuts. But Siles watched them together, almost shocked a the easy intimacy they shared. It made Stiles wonder just how much time they had spent together when Stiles was at school or studying or practicing.

Stiles wasn’t complaining. No, he was happy, overjoyed that two people he cared for had found one another. He wasn’t ignorant of the decreased hours his father was working, how he now spent more time at home. It—well, it stung a little, that it took Peter walking into their lives for him to take some time off. 

It wasn’t as though Stiles needed his father, not anymore, but he would have never said no to seeing him more often. Still, he liked his dad being home and he liked the nights the three had spent together even more so.

His father was watching him, waiting for Stiles to begin talking. Peter perched himself on the edge of Stiles' bed, angling himself to so he could easily see both Stilinskis. He offered Stiles a small smile, their bond surging with reassurance. It helped settle him, even if only a little, and he took a deep breath.

“Alright, what do you want to know?” Stiles asked, forcing a smile.

“Are you dating that Deucalion man?” his dad demanded. Well, he certainly wasn’t wasting any time getting to the point. Peter was just smirking at him. Bastard.

“Uh, I don’t know?” he tried, wincing slightly at the disbelieving look on his dad’s face. But he  _ didn’t _ know, had no idea what he and Deucalion were to each other. Hell, it had only been a few days, how the hell was he supposed to know?

Stiles did know that the bond they had was amplifying things. He’d taken his time reading up on Alpha/Emissary bonds during his initial studying, had looked to other packs for examples of what they should look like. At the time, he had thought he was studying to take the place of  _ Derek’s _ Emissary, and he’d wanted to know all that he could. 

But they weren’t simple. Aside from being near-permanently bonding, there wasn’t all that much Stiles could find out. Presumably they worked like any other bond would, connecting two pack members together on a magical level. It  _ shouldn’t _ have been more than that. At least Stiles hadn’t thought so. 

Their bond was strong, though. The strongest he had, overpowering the one he shared with Peter even after a few short days. And that was what worried him, how he could possibly become so attached to someone so quickly. Stiles wasn’t sure what was powering the bond—whether it was their shared power that made it so strong, or if they were just a good fit, compatible. 

Stiles was hesitant to say it made him uneasy, because a part of him  _ enjoyed _ it. Enjoyed how easy it was to read Deucalion, how comfortable they felt together. He knew Deucalion wouldn’t hurt him, as much as knew he would never hurt Deucalion. Their bond wouldn't allow it, and that was something he could tell with certainty. 

But when it came to the thought of more, of what he and Deucalion were to each other—that’s where Stiles got lost. Because he honestly didn’t know. He knew he was attracted to the man physically— _ very _ attracted—but he wasn’t sure if it was anything more than that.

“I— _ I don’t know _ ,” Stiles finally said, tucking his knees to his chest as both his dad and Peter continued to stare at him. He felt exposed, too open.

“Don’t know, hmm?” Peter questioned, stupid smirk still in place.

“I haven’t even talked to him about it!” Stiles said, throwing out his arms in exasperation.

“I can remember Deucalion,” Peter mentioned with a tilt of his head. “He was always—well, he was always kind. Level-headed. I wasn’t all that much younger than Talia and I can remember them meeting often. He always seemed… peaceful. Idealistic.”

“He was,” Stiles added, and he sighed when they both looked at him curiously, “I—okay. Peter, remember when he greeted me in the Preserve? Well, I may have, possibly, looked into his mind?”

“Looked into his mind?” his dad asked, trading a wide-eyed look with Peter.

“I uh, like, saw his memories? I don’t really know how I did it, but I went into his mind.”

“I did not know you could do that,” Peter said, and although he kept his voice even, their bond was humming with nerves. All Stiles could feel was Peter’s anxiety. It made Stiles nervous.

“I—I didn't’ know either? Are you upset?” Stiles asked. His voice came out far quieter than he meant.

“No, cub, not at all.” Peter moved next to him and Stiles happily tucked himself against the wolf’s side, sighing a little when Peter rubbed his chin into his temple. “Is that why you chose to follow him?”

“Uh, mostly, yeah? I saw who he used to be before—before,” Stiles took a breath, forcing down the bile that rose in his throat, “Anyway, he used to be a really good man.”

“I’m not mad either, in case you were wondering.” his dad grumbled, “I  _ am _ a little surprised that you seem to be able to what… read minds?”

“I don’t know? I don’t  _ think _ so anyway. That was the only time it’s happened and I didn’t even mean to do it!”

“Wait, you ‘looked’ into Deucalion's mind without meaning to?” Peter asked and Stiles nodded against his shoulder, sinking down even more.

There was a moment of silence as Peter and his dad took that in, apparently letting the information settle. Stiles himself had been surprised, so he could understand how they were feeling. He had no idea he was powerful enough to do something like that, and it just made him wonder what  _ else _ he would be able to do.

“Stiles, dating him or not, he’s your Alpha, right? And from what Peter has told me about bonds, he’s going to be in your life for a very, very long time, yes?” Stiles nodded, leaning heavier into Peter as his dad continued to stare at him. 

“Look, I know he might not be a good guy, but he was, and -”

“I don’t care about what who he was. Who he used to be wasn’t my son’s Alpha, and that’s what matters. But now that he  _ is _ , he better not think he can carry on as he has been.” his dad said, and even though his voice was strict he came over to the bed, joining their cuddle session on Stiles’ other side.

“Yeah—yeah, that’s something I definitely agree with. I’ll talk to him about it,” Stiles mumbled, letting himself get lost in the moment. He never thought he would have two parents again, never even let himself imagine his dad finding someone. For that someone to be Peter, someone Stiles already cared for, seemed too good to be true, but Stiles wasn’t going to protest.

* * *

When Stiles made it back up to his room, he wasn’t at all surprised to find Deucalion already sitting in his bed. He was a little surprised at the red glow of his eyes, casting light across the pages of Stiles’ ever-growing Grimoire. It reminded Stiles that he needed to update it, thankful for the never-ending pages. It had been an amazing gift from Peter, and one he would always treasure.

Deucalion had been absent for much of the afternoon, not even coming down for dinner. After the talk he had with his dads, Stiles had taken a short nap, pressed between Peter and his dad. He hadn’t slept for long, and then he’d spent a few hours before dinner bonding with Cora and Peter, excitedly listening to tales of South America and her early days with the Alpha Pack.

The only thing missing had been Deucalion, their Alpha absent from the meal and the light conversation afterwards. None of the others would talk about it, and Stiles wasn’t sure if they were able to feel the sharp twist of Deucalion's doubt like he was. Either way, it had sat sharply in his chest, strong enough that he couldn’t ignore it as he made his way upstairs slowly.

He set the plate of food down on his end table, standing still a moment as he waited for Deucalion to acknowledge him. Instead, the man kept reading. The only indication he knew Stiles was in the room was the tense set his shoulders had taken. Stiles sighed quietly and took a moment to parse through what he was getting from their bond. If Deucalion wasn’t going to offer anything, Stiles would just have to figure out what was wrong himself.

The talk with his fathers had left him feeling calm, the erratic beat of his emotions smoothed into something steadier. It felt good to have worked through more of his thoughts, and even better when his dad hadn’t shamed him for his uncertainty. He knew he was  _ attracted _ to Deucalion, at least physically, though he also knew that he could very well be attracted to the man he saw in Deucalion’s memories. But Stiles wasn’t sure if there was any of that man left. 

“If you’re here to inform me you are breaking our bond, I would like to remind you the ritual can be quite painful,” Deucalion drawled, face impassive as he closed the notebook. His eyes dimmed behind his glasses and he neatly folded his hands atop his lap. 

He looked perfectly calm, poised. If Stiles couldn’t feel the raging emotions along their bond he wasn’t sure he would have been able to tell if Deucalion was hiding something. In fact, Deucalion was projecting so strongly with such harsh emotions that it took Stiles aback, and he had to stop himself from stumbling a step. He had to take a moment to breathe through the Alpha’s panic, separating it from his own feelings even as Deucalion sat there, face pleasantly neutral. 

It was unsettling for Stiles to watch. Even more unsettling was the statement, and Stiles' eyes widened when he finally processed what the man had said. He had no idea where this was coming from, couldn’t understand why Deucalion would say  _ anything _ about breaking their bond. Unless—unless Deucalion was the one who wanted to break it? But no, not with how  _ panicpaindontleave _ was hurling between them.

“What?” Stiles finally asked, trying to figure out what the hell Deucalion was talking about. 

“I don’t believe I misspoke,” Deucalion said, though he still didn’t look up. Of course, Stiles recognized that Deucalion wouldn’t be looking at him either way, but he’d noticed that Deucalion always made an effort to at least face him—or anyone speaking—during a conversation. 

“I… alright, well I’m not breaking our bond. Jesus, how did, why did—why would you even think that?” Stiles said, doing his best not to groan or stomp his foot. He was just confused, and he didn’t know what he could have done for Deucalion to think he was going to leave him.

“I may be blind, but I’m not ignorant. I am aware of the choices I’ve made and how those decisions have affected others. I may be callous and cruel, but I am not stupid!” Deucalion’s voice raised while he spoke, agitation and loss thrumming between them. Stiles rounded the bed slowly, stopping a step away from Deucalion. 

“Deuc,” The name felt weird on Stiles' tongue but it sounded comfortable, softer with Stiles’ quiet voice. “I’m not breaking the bond.”

Deucalion’s head snapped toward him, and the corner of his lip began to peel back in a snarl, although he didn’t say anything for a long moment. Long enough for Stiles to fidget. He felt exposed with how Deucalion was watching him, and blind or not, he felt naked under the man’s gaze. 

“I’m in this,” Stiles said, voice low under the tension of the room.

“I’m not sure you know how much you’re promising.”

And that - that felt too much like being underestimated. It was a familiar burn, one that tugged in his chest, and Stiles almost let himself get upset. But he couldn’t, not when he could feel Deucalion's anger, his fear and his uncertainty. And, what really got to Stiles, the budding hope flickering between them. 

Deucalion had turned his head again, refusing to look at him, but even if Stiles wasn’t getting the feedback from their bond he’d be able to tell Deucalion was tense and upset. The man’s body was drawn tight, but more than that Stiles could see the glint of fang pressing against Deucalion’s bottom lip, noted the tipped ear. His claws were out where his hands were folded together, black-tipped and dangerous. Stiles bit down on his lip, tilting his head to the side.

Stiles sighed, deep and long-suffering and frustrated. He struggled to find his words, his mind going too fast to properly put himself in order. He wanted everything Deucalion seemed to be afraid Stiles didn’t or couldn't understand. And maybe it was selfish of him, but Stiles wanted something  _ permanent _ , something he could trust and rely on. He was far too familiar with being abandoned.

He knew his mother had never meant to leave him, tried not to fault her for her sickness, but in the end, that’s what it felt like. His mother  _ left _ him, her mind twisting into something dark and ugly until she was a monster who  _ hated _ him. Then so did his father, busying himself with work so he wouldn’t have to be home, and drinking to forget when he was. Stiles had no idea how many times he’d had to pack his own lunch or wash his own laundry or throw out empty whiskey bottles. His father had come back, but it had been too late.

And then, more recently, Scott, who Stiles had thought would be by his side forever.

With a nod he lifted his leg, swinging it over the bed and placing his knee next to Deucalion’s thigh. He placed a hand on the man's shoulder to support himself and straddled Deuc's lap. Stiles settled back, sitting on the man’s thighs and he watched Deucalion’s eyes go wide behind his glasses, fingers twitching and forearms tensing as he kept himself from reaching out.

“Yeah, yeah asshole, don’t get too excited,” Stiles grumbled, wiggling and twisting until he sat comfortably on Deucalion’s thighs. He took Deucalion's clawed hands in his own and placed them palm down on his thighs, watching as the claws immediately retracted. Stiles grinned.

“Darling, this is a dangerous game you’re playing,” Deucalion said with a growl. His voice sounded hoarse.

“Who said I was playing?” Stiles asked, settling his hands over Deucalion’s. 

“My wolf has already decided it wants you, Stiles, and I am not one to deny my instincts,” Deucalion said, hands kneading Stiles’ thighs.

“I’m not asking you to,” Stiles whispered between them. 

“I would like to trust you, darling, but I have a hard time thinking you understand how strong this bond is going to be.” Deucalion explained. His voice had softened, but he was still tense.

“I—it might be selfish, but that’s  _ why  _ I want this. I don’t… I can’t be adondoned again,” Stiles said quietly, looking down at his lap. “I understand that you might not trust me right away, but I hope,”

“You understand nothing,” Deucalion hissed, fingers tightening around Stiles’ thighs painfully, his eyes flashing Alpha-red behind his glasses. Stiles could see where the man’s fangs had dropped.

“You have no idea how it feels to be turned on, to have one of your own,” Deucalion’s voice cracked, and he whined. Stiles moved slowly, raising his arms and moving forward until he could tuck Deucalion’s head into his neck and hug the man close. 

Deucalion was breathing deep lungfuls of Stiles’ scent, and Stiles could feel wetness against his skin. Stiles’ eyes were wet, too, with what he was feeling over their bond. God, of course Deucalion was guarded, wary of Stiles’ acceptance. Stiles had seen the night he’d looked into Deucalion’s memory, but to  _ feel _ it, even just a phantom of the old pain, had Stiles’ heart breaking.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, baby,” Stiles said, hugging Deucalion close. 

“He tore me open. He tore me open and left me inside-out. I was  _ broken _ . How can you be an Alpha without a pack?” Deucalion asked, voice quiet in a way Stiles hadn’t heard him. The Alpha sounded unsure, hurt in a way Stiles could hardly make sense of.

“I was powerless, Stiles. I was  _ nothing _ . I had been near-feral lying on that operation table, and he… I hadn’t— _ I didn’t mean to kill him _ !” Deucalion cried out, the last words whispered into the skin of Stiles’ neck.

“You have a pack now,” Stiles whispered, trying to do anything to reassure his Alpha. “I’m not going to leave. I promise.”

“My mom,” Stiles took a deep breath, trying to settle his heart. It was already beating faster, his chest restricting painfully. “My mom, she lost herself. Dementia, the kind she had, kills slowly, and it—it eats away at the brain, distorts the person it affects. She turned into something  _ ugly _ . She wasn’t my mom anymore.”

That was the most honest Stiles has ever been while talking about his mother, but he didn’t want to stop. “She thought I was  _ evil _ , thought I was the Devil’s child, and she,” Stiles lifted his shirt just enough to expose his right hip where there was still a faint, white scar. There was the smallest displacement to the skin, and he took Deucalion's hand and ran the man's finger over it. 

“That was when my dad put her in the hospital. She had pushed me into a—a cabinet, and a picture frame fell. S-she got mad, angry, maybe. T-tried to carve the devil out of my skin.” And that was the worst of it, the worst the physical abuse ever got. But that certainly wasn’t all of it. All of it hurt, every hurled word or hand-shaped bruised. Every time his mother's nails dug into his skin or just tugged at his hair. It all  _ hurt _ .

Deucalion was cradling him close now, the hands previously on his thighs rubbing small, warm circles into his back. “You are so much stronger than I could have imagined, Stiles. I am honoured to call you my Emissary.”

“I am honoured to call you my Alpha,” Stiles murmured, breathing in deep and nosing at the hair behind Deucalion’s ear.

“I—I might need time,” Deucalion admitted into Stiles’ skin, and Stiles was pleased to note that the bond was calming. 

“Yeah, no, yeah that’s fine. I think we both need time,” Stiles assured him, still running his fingers through the hair at Deucalion's’ neck. Deucalion breathed deep, sucking in lungfuls of Stiles’ scent, and Stiles settled his own arms around Deucalion's shoulders, playing with the hair at the nape of the man's neck.

“I don’t know why I’m letting you this close,” Deucalion said, his voice quiet and hesitant, like he was thinking through the words as he said them.

And Stiles had to agree, because he hadn’t let someone in this easily since his mother. He had always been guarded, made it harder to be hurt. But he  _ had _ , had let the pack in and they had taken that and threw it away, tore up his trust like it meant nothing. Stiles knew how much it hurt to be cast aside, to be thrown away like he meant nothing. They had taken his trust and twisted it into something ugly.

He wasn’t sure if he could handle that happening again.

But this, what he had just told Deucalion? That wasn’t something he had told anyone. No one knew, maybe not even his dad, how bad it had gotten. He couldn’t even imagine telling someone else; it would make ignoring all the dark memories harder. Keeping it to himself, it was easy to ignore it, to forget the scars. 

“I think it’s the bond, otherwise I wouldn’t be doing it either,” Stiles said, though he rubbed his chin along Deucalion's temple much the same way Peter had done for him countless times.

“Well, at least I’m not the only crazy one,” Deucalion joked, some of the hoarseness dropping away from his voice. Stiles let Deucalion calm down, gave him a moment to breathe and doing the same himself. He felt raw and exposed. He knew their conversation wasn’t over, but he felt alright with where they left things.

“Hey! Bad wolf! Hands off the goods, mister!” Stiles laughed after a few moments of scenting, letting Deucalion lighten the mood. He swatted at the Alpha’s hands as they squeezed his ass, pulling them up until he was once again being hugged around his waist. “None of that!”

“I seem to recall something being said about not denying my instincts?” Deucalion said lightly, leaning back enough for Stiles to see his teasing smirk.

“Deuc, it—it wouldn’t even be legal!” Stiles tried, twisting his fingers in his lap. God, denial had been easier to deal with. The look Deucalion levelled at him made it pretty clear what he thought of Stiles’ feeble excuse. 

“Murder, assault, kidnapping, breaking and entering, extensive property damage,  _ vandalism _ .” Deucalion counted off on his hand until he held up five claw-tipped fingers in the space between them. “In case it had escaped your notice, darling, I don’t particularly abide by the law.”

“You do realize that’s going to be like, a huge issue with my father, right?” Stiles asked, but he did notice when a few of Deuc’s fingers slipped under his shirt. Deucalion’s hands were warm against Stiles’ skin.

“Look,” Stiles began, pushing Deuc’s short hair back. “I know a lot of this is the bond, but it isn’t making anything up. Yeah, It’s making things stronger, amplifying what we may be feeling, but it isn’t  _ creating _ anything.”

“And why is it you’re telling me this like I don’t already know?” Deucalion asked, though he tightened his grip.

Stiles poked Deuc in the nose, smiling at the scrunched-up face the man made. “Because I could feel how upset you were. I don’t want you thinking that I don’t want this, to be your Emissary and everything else that may come along with that.”

“Alright,” Deucalion muttered and pulled his arms back, lightly slapping at Stiles’ thighs. “Now, if you don’t mind I would like to eat my dinner.”

Stiles laughed even as he rolled over, planting his head in Deucalion’s lap instead. He could scroll through Tumblr while the man ate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to stop lying about regular posting. That's - that is just not going to happen, and I apologize. I'm sorry it had taken me this long to get here, and that it takes me such a great amount of time to post updates. It makes me really upset when I have trouble working on this story because of 1. i fucking love it and 2. the feedback i get from all of you is **amazing**.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who had stuck around. this is, to date, my favourite chapter. I took me a long fucking time to write, too. I really struggled writing Deuc & Stiles' conversation. Intense scenes like these are something I struggle with, but I'll admit to be happy with how this one turned out.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy! Next update will hopefully be out my mid march!
> 
>  [my tumblr!!!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter beta'd by [thegirlwhoknits!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwhoknits/pseuds/thegirlwhoknits)

When Stiles woke the next morning, Deucalion wasn’t curled against his back. Rather, Stiles had an arm thrown around the Alpha’s waist and his nose was pressed into the warm skin of Deuc’s nape, the short hairs tickling against Stiles’ nose. Stiles shuffled closer, enjoying the lazy contentedness he felt, wrapped around the older man.

He didn’t feel trapped like this, and he was glad to have woken in a way that allowed him to cuddle with Deuc. Stiles wanted to be as close as possible, especially half asleep and craving touch. Deucalion wasn’t much more awake than he was, and when Stiles focused, he could feel him slowly waking up through their bond. 

Deucalion lifted his arm and Stiles was about to pull his own away, afraid he had pushed too far, before Deuc laced their fingers together and laid their palms over his own belly. Stiles shuffled closer, confident now in his welcome, and pulled Deuc a little tighter to him. Deucalion made a low, rumbling noise that sounded pleased, and Stiles smiled into the man’s skin, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. 

He did his best to ignore his own lack of arousal. Stiles was aware that he should feel  _ something _ —pressed up against an attractive man, one he had fucking feelings for—but his dick was limp in his boxers. He didn’t want to ruin the morning, so he tried to push down his disappointment, focusing instead on how nice it felt to be wrapped around his Alpha. 

Stiles let himself drift, toeing the line of consciousness. He wasn’t quite ready to get up, glady taking advantage of his free time. Taking the week off school felt a little like avoiding his problems, but he couldn't bring himself to care too much. He didn’t want to see the pack yet. Their rejection didn’t hurt nearly as much as it had at first, not when Stiles’ chest was bright with his new pack bonds… But he still didn’t want to see them. 

“Waking up like this is more fun,” Stiles said, voice whisper-soft in the silence of the room. He was sure the others were already up, but he couldn’t bring himself to move yet.

Deucalion turned in Stiles’ hold, face still soft with sleep, eyes lazy and half-lidded. What Stiles could see of Deuc’s irises were a creamy white, the rest of his eyes a painful looking, bloody red. The scars around them were deep and jagged, pale against the tanned skin of his face. They looked like they hurt, and Stiles wondered again if they brought the Alpha any pain.

“You’re staring,” Deucalion said, his brow pulling down into a frown. Stiles wasn’t sure how he knew, but he looked away instinctively. 

“You have pretty eyes,” Stiles told him, and he could feel his cheeks heating with a blush even before Deuc snorted. “You do. They look like the moon.”

He brought a hand up between them and brushed his finger gently along the skin under Deucalion's eyes, ran his thumb along one of the deepest scars. Deucalion was holding his breath, his body tight with tension. Stiles leaned forward as far as he could and pressed a soft kiss to Deucalion's forehead.

When Stiles leaned back Deucalion's eyes were closed, though the furrowed skin between his brows had smoothed out. He was wearing a soft smile now, and Stiles could feel his happiness over the bond. Deucalion kept his eyes closed as they breathed together, though they fluttered open just a touch before he leant forward.

“Thank you,” Stiles whispered, a little in awe at the trust Deucalion had in him. 

“Can I have a proper morning kiss, darling?” Deuc asked, and Stiles could feel the words against his own lips with the way Deuc’s breath was ghosting over the skin.

Stiles nodded, but Deucalion didn’t move forward. He waited for Stiles to make the first move. Once Stiles pressed their lips together, Deucalion settled his arm over Stiles’ waist and pulled him in, though he didn’t turn the kiss into anything more than the dry press of closed mouths Stiles had initiated. 

Deucalion was the one to pull back, pressing another peck to Stiles’ lips before he did so. Stiles knew his face would be blotchy red and warm, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The smile he wore felt good, making his cheeks hurt with its force. Deucalion’s smile was smaller, but just as genuine, and their bond was singing with their mixed joy.

“Thank you,” Deuc repeated, and Stiles made a noise of agreement before leaning in for another chaste kiss.

* * *

Stiles had no idea how he had ended up here. ‘Here’ was the backseat of Ennis’ humongous (and gorgeous, so freaking gorgeous) Jeep, Ethan behind the wheel and Cora beside him. He had no idea where they were even going, other than ‘shopping for new clothes.’ He was a little worried, especially as they drove out of town, passing by the  _ ‘Welcome to Beacon Hills’ _ sign without a word.

As soon as he walked downstairs that morning, the two teens had ambushed him in the kitchen. He had still been riding the high of his first kiss—because holy fuck, he  _ just had his first kiss  _ and it was with a  _ hot older man _ who had _ feelings  _ for him—and had been caught off-guard when they cornered him. It had taken him a moment to snap into the present, and he almost regretted it when he did.

“If you’re going to to be seen with us, you’re going to need to dress better,” Cora had said, and although Stiles figured he should be offended, there was no malice in her words. 

“What she  _ means _ is that you’re very attractive, and your loose, shapeless clothes do nothing but hide that,” Ethan said, voice far softer than Cora’s had been.

And then, before Stiles had been able to respond, they had dragged him away. Stiles instantly mourned the lazy morning he had been planning in bed with Deuc—and he especially mourned all the kisses he was going to miss! They had shuffled him into the backseat of Ennis’ jeep without so much as a word from Stiles. 

He hadn’t thought he looked bad, either. He was just wearing jeans—clean ones!—and yes, the flannel he was wearing had been picked up from his floor, but the graphic t-shirt under that was clean, too. Yeah, his jeans were baggy, but Stiles had never thought much of it. Honestly, he didn’t care too much as long as they fit.

But he wasn’t going to argue with them. They were both far more attractive than he was, and if they thought they would be able to make him look better, he wasn't going to discourage their efforts. Especially now that he had boyfriend… kind of. Besides, he knew it was important for them to get closer as a pack, especially being their Emissary. 

“So, how did you end up with the Alpha pack? I know you said that they took you in, but  _ why _ ?” Stiles asked, leaning a little to the side so he could see half of Cora’s face. He noticed how her lips pulled down into a frown. 

“I travelled after the fire. Well, ‘travelled’ might not be the right word. I  _ wandered. _ I thought everyone had died. I—I couldn’t feel any pack bonds.” Cora took a deep, shaking breath and Stiles reached forward to grab her shoulder, squeezing as he tried to push reassurance down their bond. 

“I was ten when the fire happened,” Cora said, her voice stronger than Stiles had been expecting. “It wasn’t that hard, after. Surviving. I just… lived like a wolf. I didn’t need food, since I could hunt, and I didn’t really need shelter. 

“For a while I was on my own. I don't… I  _ know _ how long I was gone for. But it doesn’t feel real.  _ Time _ didn’t really feel real, then. When Deucalion found me, I was near feral. I didn’t remember what it meant to be human anymore, but he—he helped.”

“So he just, what, taught you how to be human again?” Stiles asked, trying not to frown. 

Cora nodded, her smile turning into something softer. “He became my Alpha. I hadn’t meant to submit, but I’d been so far gone. All I wanted was to be safe again, and Alpha had always meant safety. And Ennis had been great, too. He—well, he didn’t understand, but he was the most patient. Gave me as much time as I needed to get better.”

“I see,” Stiles said, for an honest lack of anything else to say. “Y-you’re okay now, right?”

“I did a lot of my grieving before Deucalion found me. There wasn’t much to do  _ but _ think, and I did a lot of that. It’s amazing to be around Peter again, he’s always been my favourite.”

“He is pretty great,” Stiles said, a small smile on his face. 

He considered asking about Derek, how she felt with the distance that was still between them—maybe even asking how she felt about Laura and Derek leaving Peter behind—but now wasn’t the time. That felt too much like an invasion of her privacy, so Stiles settled on being thankful for what he  _ was _ told.

* * *

Stiles had never been to a mall so large before. Beacon Hills only had two stories, but this one had three, and was far longer, too. The parking lot held more cars that Stiles could imagine seeing in one place—and Beacon Hills wasn’t even  _ that _ small of a town! 

He had no idea where they were going, or what exactly they were looking for, but Stiles let himself be dragged around. They were clearly after something specific. He didn't really care—shopping wasn’t his thing, and he wasn’t able to pretend it was. He knew nothing about clothes, which was, apparently, obvious.

He followed the betas through the mall, half-listening to their conversation as he went. It was nice to get out of the house, to  _ do _ something. Stiles knew he had been spending most of his time on his own, rarely leaving his house for anything but school. The only people he had spent any time with for weeks were his dad, and more recently Peter. It was nice to get out with people who  _ wanted _ to be out with him. 

Quietly, he followed them into the first store. He didn't have much to add to their conversation—most of his shirts had funny slogans on them, or pictures of his favourite superheroes, and Stiles didn’t think this store would have either—so he kept quiet. It seemed a little too nice, actually, and he tried to push down the panic that began to swell when he checked a few of the price tags. There was no way he and his dad could afford all this.

“Deucalion is paying,” Cora said, pulling a credit card out of her back pocket with a big smile. 

“And,” Ethan said, throwing an arm around Stiles’ shoulder and tucking him into his side. “the card doesn't have a limit.”

Stiles blushed, but he smiled too. He wasn’t sure how Cora had known, but he was thankful she’d been able to tell.

“Here! Here, right here,” Cora called from a few racks away, and Ethan dragged him over.

The rack held brightly coloured dress shirts, and Stiles’ mouth dropped open a little. He had no idea what Cora and Ethan were planning, but there was  _ no way _ he would be leaving his house in shirts that looked like that.

“Cora, uhm. I’m not—” Stiles tried, tripping over his words as he tried to come up with a polite way to say that he hated every one of the shirts hanging in front of him.

“Relax,” Cora said with a laugh, and some of the nervous tension is Stiles’ belly eased. “We aren’t going to do that to you.”

“We just want you to wear clothes that actually fit,” Ethan added, squeezing the arm still around his shoulder. 

“What do you normally wear?” Cora began walking away as she asked, and both Stiles and Ethan followed after her. Stiles was trying to keep his eyes open for  _ anything _ he would normally wear, though he wasn’t having much luck.

“Uh, jeans? And t-shirts. Hoodies if it's cold out, too,” Stiles shrugged. He really didn’t put that much thought into his wardrobe.

“What’s up with the flannels?”

“Oh, I…feel more comfortable with them, I guess?” He shrugged again, a little uncomfortable with how the two wolves were looking at one another. 

“So, a few good shirts, some jeans,” Ethan began, his smile wicked.

“And a few of Deucalion’s sweaters,” Cora finished, both of them laughing when Stiles started to blush.

“You like that idea, don't you?” Cora teased, and there was nothing but comfort running along their bonds. It made Stiles feel a little better, knowing that they were both just joking around.

He was able to smile back at them, though he felt a little wrong-footed. It had been so long since had been teased by a friend, since he—fuck, since he  _ had _ a friend—that he felt out of his depth. He wasn't sure how to play along, what to say to keep up the easy atmosphere that had grown between them. 

“I—maybe?” Stiles settled on, his own smile small and a little nervous, but no less genuine. 

Cora hummed, rifling through a few shirt racks and passing things over to Ethan. Stiles kind of wished she was handing things to him. At least that way he would have something to do with his hands. 

“I know Peter talked to you about what was going on there. Care to share?” Cora asked. 

Stiles chewed on the inside of his cheek as he continued to browse the racks of shirts. Most of them were plain, but it gave him something to do with his hands as he thought of an answer to give. The truth was, he still didn’t really know. Yes, they had cleared a few things up last night, and they had that moment this morning, but Stiles wasn’t sure what to  _ call _ them.

“It’s okay if you don’t know,” Ethan said, and Stiles turned to find his face wearing a soft, open smile.

“We’re still figuring it out,” Stiles said, which must have been enough for them, as they steered the conversation away after that.

They continued to walk through the store—Stiles figured it had to be some sort of department store, with how much stuff they had—and they joked around a bit more. Cora was curious about what Beacon Hills had to offer in terms of fun, and Stiles told her about the bowling alley and the diner next to it, and how they were really wasn’t all that much to do. 

It was nice to be out with them, and Stiles could feel their pack bonds settling, strengthening. It helped that they all got along, and it was a little eerie to see how similar Peter and Cora were, at least when it came to their levels of sass. Ethan was…softer than Stiles had thought. Down-to-earth in a way he hadn’t expected. 

Stiles wandered off around the time Cora and Ethan started looking at jeans. He had given them his size and they had set him free. He was still carrying nothing, though Ethan had more shirts piled on one arm than Stiles currently owned. 

Stiles was standing in front of a table covered in neatly folded shirts. The one he was looking at was a pale purple, though it had silver stitching. It was simple, but far nicer than anything Stiles currently owned, and wasn’t as plain as some of the solid-coloured shirts Ethan was carrying. He brushed over the fabric with his thumb, pleasantly surprised at how soft it was.

“That one would look wonderful on you,” someone said from his side, and Stiles had to stop himself from flinching when a hand grabbed his forearm. 

Stiles turned to find a shop assistant staring at him with a wide smile, and the man squeezed Stiles’ arm before he let it go. His name tag read Eric, and Stiles thought he looked a little too much like Jackson—pretty, but artificial. 

“Would you like me to start a room?” the man asked, and Stiles was struck dumb, trying to think of some way to ask him to remove his hand.

“Yeah, that would be great,” Cora said, words sharp as she pushed the clothes she was holding into the man’s arms. “Everything okay?”

Stiles nodded, not entirely sure of the cause of Cora’s harsh treatment towards the clerk. He had let it go by the time Ethan found them, and they looked at a few more shirts before they ushered Stiles towards the change rooms, where the pile of clothes Stiles was about to try on was nothing short of daunting. 

* * *

As Stiles predicted, it took nearly an hour to go through every item and show them off to Cora and Ethan. They insisted that he show them everything he had to try on, and it just made the process longer than it needed to be. He was surprised, at how many things he liked from the insane pile of clothes, though.

Stiles had no idea pants could fit like  _ that _ , and he also had no idea his ass was so nice. He wasn’t really sure  _ how _ it had happened, but at some point he had gotten…fit. Probably when he began running daily. Still, it was a bit of a surprise to find that he felt comfortable in the fitted clothes, even liked the way the shirts hugged his body. 

The sales assistant had come back during a time when both Ethan and Cora had stepped away from the change rooms to get different sizes. He had been all wide smiles and white teeth. There had been a point when Eric had stepped close, too close for Stiles’ comfort, and had adjusted the collar of the shirt Stiles was trying on, his fingers brushing along Stiles’ neck and settled there, heavy and unwanted until Stiles had been able to step away.

It hadn’t been the only time, though, and Eric had been back when Stiles was alone, compliments once again spilling from his lips. Stiles had tried to voice his displeasure the second Eric got too close, but he hadn’t been able to get the words out. All he could do was silently freak out as Eric ran a hand over Stiles’ hip, sliding up under his shirt. Even with Stiles’ magic, he felt helpless against the human. 

He couldn’t bring himself to protest or to move away, his breath catching in his throat as panic built in his belly. He couldn't do  _ anything _ , and he felt as helpless as he had in that basement, weak and terrified. All his breath rushed out of him when Cora returned and Eric stepped back. 

Her face was pulled down into a frown. Stiles was sure she could smell his panic, but he shook her head. Embarrassment and shame were heavy in his chest, and he wouldn’t know what to say if she asked.

He hadn’t been up to trying on clothes after that he just wanted to go home. But he had tried to push through, for Cora and Ethan’s sake. They had spent so much time with him today, and they had really tried to find him clothes that he liked and would look good on him. He didn’t want to let them down, although he was sure they could sense his negative mood. 

They hadn’t made him stay too much longer after that, and Stiles was glad when they left the store. Paying with Deucalion's credit card had been a welcome distraction, and he was able to laugh through Cora’s teasing. Stiles was blown away by the number of bags they ended up carrying out of the store—he wasn’t even sure he currently owned as much clothing as they had just bought.

He tried to get a hold of himself during the drive home, and Cora and Ethan were quiet in the front seat. He took the time he needed to get himself in order, trying his best to sort through his thoughts. He felt dirty. He knew that Eric’s scent would be on his skin, and the knowledge of that made his stomach tight.

Stiles wished he had been able to say something at the store. It made him hate Gerard all the more, the way he was still affected by what the man did to him. It wasn’t enough that he woke up with nightmares, but now he couldn’t even speak up for himself when he was uncomfortable? Stiles could only hope that wasn’t the case, and that he could write the experience in the store off as a one-time thing.

He was still healing. He  _ knew _ that, but it annoyed him to no end how things could still bother him, could still affect him in such a big way. Stiles tried his best to clear his head. It was done with, and he knew dwelling on the moment would do nothing but hurt him more. If he was going to move on, he had to let it go.

Before he knew it, they were pulling into his driveway and he felt more level-headed. More than anything, he was tired. The house was emptier than he had been expecting—his dad’s cruiser was gone from the driveway, though he had no idea where Peter or the other Alphas had gone. He sent his companions a sleepy smile before he made his way up to his room. 

Stiles placed all the bags on the floor near the door, telling himself that he would sort through all the clothing once he had taken a nap. The emotional trip to the mall and then the all the thinking during the ride home had tired him out. He didn’t want to shower, but he still felt dirty, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep unless he did.

Stiles looked inside at his bonds, letting the gold magic glow brightly within his chest. Everything felt fine, and he didn’t turn around when his bedroom door opened—he could feel Deucalion moving closer. Stiles pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the side, closing his eyes as he hung his head. Deucalion’s presence was washing over him, nothing but comfort and safety, and Stiles let it clear his mind.

He didn’t jump when Deucalion pressed against his back, and he leaned into the hold when the Alpha’s arms wrapped around his waist. Deucalion growled; the noise vibrated through Stiles’ body and he let himself go boneless, trusting Deucalion to hold him up.

“What the hell happened?” the man bit out, dragging his nose and mouth over Stiles’ neck, breath hot and damp against his skin. Stiles shivered, and the touch—from Deucalion—was more than welcome.

“You  _ reek _ ,” Deucalion said, nipping at Stiles’ neck as he gripped his waist, running his hands over Stiles’ bare skin.

“Mhm, I’m sorry,” Stiles said, voice quiet as he laced his fingers together with Deucalion’s where they still lay on his hips.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Deucalion said, and Stiles let out a rather embarrassing whine when the man pulled Stiles’ skin into his mouth and  _ sucked _ , “but you’re mine, and right now you don’t smell like it.”

Stiles let Deucalion continue, though he couldn’t help but feel disappointed once again. Deucalion was pressed bodily against him, warm along his back and was still kissing at Stiles’ neck, worrying the skin between his teeth and lips. It felt good, felt  _ so good _ , but Stiles’ body wasn’t reacting. Well, he could feel himself chubbing up, his cock taking interest, but he—he wasn’t aroused.

“Is this okay?” Deuc asked, and Stiles nodded, not quite trusting his voice.

Deucalion's hand were moving from his waist, one sliding lower until his fingers were teasing the hem of Stiles’ jeans, just the very tips of his fingers slipping under the fabric. The other hand was splayed wide over Stiles’ belly, big and warm, and that felt good too. Deucalion was pressing light kisses to Stiles’ neck, still, and Stiles was getting nothing from the action.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said again, and his voice cracked with the words, the admission. It was clear his cock wasn’t going to get any harder, and Deucalion's hands moved to once again settle on his hips. He could probably force it, maybe, but he didn’t want to be with Deucalion like that.

“I’m going to shower,” Stiles said, tears stinging against his eyes as he tried to pull away. 

Deucalion wasn’t letting up, though. The Alpha stepped back just enough that he could use his hold on Stiles’ hips to turn him around. Stiles all but fell into Deucalion’s chest, letting the man pull him in and hold him up. He felt safe, Deucalion’s scent strong in his nose, his arms around Stiles keeping him settled.

“It’s okay, Stiles,” Deucalion said, voice soft and mouth pulled up in a soft smile.

Stiles nodded against Deucalion’s chest, rubbed his skin into the soft fabric of his shirt and tried to breathe, to push down the disappointment and the anger that rose. 

“Shower, and after we could watch a movie?” Deuc offered, and Stiles smiled, just a little, pushing down what he was feeling to deal with later. He would shower, and then he would cuddle with Deuc, and maybe, if he was feeling up to it, they could kiss some more. Soft, like they had in the morning. 

That would be okay. Stiles was looking forward to it, even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _backs away slowly_. IDK man. This fic means a lot to me, and is very special to me, and writing it is fucking hard. I'm HOPING to post a new chapter at the beginning of every month until this thing is finished (five chapters to go) and hopefully that I can stick with!  
> [my tumblr!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


	11. I'll Make the Pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _If you haven't yet done so, I'd recommend subscribing to the series!_

Stiles stumbled down the stairs, not even half awake, clinging to the railing for support as he went. He didn’t bother opening his eyes—he knew exactly how many steps it took to get to the coffee maker without having to look, and he always felt a little bit of pride when he managed to make it all the way from his bedroom to the coffee pot.

He’d just taken his last step, his arms awkwardly out in the air to avoid knocking into any furniture, when a hand caught his own out of the air. Stiles’ brow pulled down in confusion, though he didn’t pull his hand away. The only people in the house were the pack,  _ his pack _ , and he wasn’t worried. His lips twitched when a mug was placed in his hand, and whoever it was curled Stiles’ fingers around the ceramic until Stiles had a good grip. 

Stiles took a sip and hummed happily. The coffee was to his liking, and he opened his eyes expecting Peter. Instead, Ennis was smiling down at him, face open and expression happy.

“Thank you,” Stiles said, and he knew he must have sounded surprised.

“I’m usually the first one up, which often means getting breakfast ready,” Ennis told him as he walked back over to the stove, as though that did anything to explain how he knew what Stiles liked in his coffee. 

Stiles followed after him over to the stove, both hands wrapped around the warm mug as he continued to sip at his coffee. Ennis had two pans going, one frying eggs and the other cooking bacon. Stiles had to assume that someone had gotten groceries yesterday, because that certainly did  _ not _ look like the turkey bacon that he kept stocked in the freezer for his father.

“Hashbrowns are warming in the oven,” Ennis said, gesturing with his head, and Stiles nodded.

Groceries had definitely been gotten, then. Stiles had to wonder if Deucalion had paid for the food the way he had for Stiles’ clothes—there was no way he and his dad would have been able to afford everything that had been bought. 

Stiles leaned against the island, more than content to just watch. During his research, he’d heard horror stories about the Alpha who was standing in his kitchen. They were all ones that Stiles believed—he knew just how much damage the Alpha pack had caused, and Stiles had to wonder how they could all be so okay with fundamentally changing the way they behaved. It seemed too good to be true, and while Stiles could understand Deucalion's and Cora’s motivations, he didn’t know about the others.

It made him nervous, to be letting them into his home. He knew that they followed Deucalion, but he wasn’t sure how much of that was due to respect and how much was because Deucalion had been the strongest Alpha. Stiles was nervous they wouldn’t accept the changes Stiles needed them to make. 

He wasn’t just going to write them off, though, and he smiled again. “Can I make pancakes?”

Ennis’ smile grew, just a little, and it was enough for Stiles to feel his happiness through their bond. He had to wonder how it felt for the wolves to be bonded with an Emissary, especially going so long without one. For him, the bonds felt like golden light, shining in his chest. The one he had with Deucalion was the strongest, something he felt like he could touch, if he wanted to.

The others were weaker, but they were steadily getting stronger. Stiles knew that the other bonds would never feel as strong as the one he shared with his Alpha, but he was still able to feel where they sat within his chest. It was interesting how…different they all felt. The bond he shared with Peter was nothing like the one he had with Cora, and Ethan’s was nothing like either. 

Ennis’, now, was strumming with enjoyment. Stiles reached into the cupboard above him for the flour, and set about gathering the ingredients he would need and setting them onto the counter. They weren’t complicated to make, but he made sure to use a healthy amount of vanilla and cinnamon in the batter. It was something his mother had always done, and Stiles never got out of the habit.

There was already a pan heating on the stove by the time Stiles had mixed the batter up; Ennis had made room for him. Ennis was leaning against the counter next to the stove, holding his own cup of coffee and watching his food fry. Stiles wasn’t sure what to say, so he busied himself in pouring out two pancakes, making sure the heat was right.

“You can ask, ya know,” Ennis said, and Stiles looked up at him with a frown.

“I don’t know what yo—” Stiles tried, but Ennis cut him off.

“C’mon, kid. I know about all the research you did on us. I know how curious you must be,” he explained, and Stiles was glad he didn’t look upset.

“Well, I  _ am _ a little curious. But you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want me to know. You’re entitled to your own privacy,” Stiles told him

“I knew Kali was my mate when I met her,” Ennis began, and Stiles was surprised. He never thought someone so imposing could look so soft. “We wanted to join our packs together, but they were…less than pleased. They resisted, but when Kali got pregnant they couldn’t stop it from happening.”

Stiles held in a gasp when Ennis’ pain exploded through their bond. Stiles was going to tell him to stop, that it was okay, but he kept going. “They told us that she’d died during birth.”

Making sure the pancakes weren’t going to burn, Stiles stepped closer and placed a hand on Ennis’ forearm, squeezing it and pushing as much reassurance through the bond as he could. Ennis gave him a watery smile and pulled his arm away so he could lay it over Stiles’ shoulders and tug him against his side.

“We were too distressed to hear the lie.” His voice was bitter, and Stiles felt his own anger building in his chest. “Things didn’t end well when we found out. They had all known, both of our packs, and they had worked together to plan it. They thought the death of our child would split us apart. We were within our right to do what we did, and it—it was easy to do. After what they had done.”

Stiles wrapped an arm around Ennis’ waist and hugged him, tried to give any reassurance he could. He had no idea what to say to that, couldn’t even imagine what it could possibly feel like to have your child  _ murdered _ . He hugged Ennis a bit tighter, and the man chuckled into his hair.

“Thank you for telling me,” Stiles said, his own voice cracking with emotion. He couldn’t even imagine that type of betrayal.

“Your pancakes are going to burn,” Ennis told him, face still tucked into Stiles’ hair. He nodded, though he didn’t move until Ennis gave him a little push.

By the time he flipped the two pancakes, the bottoms were darker than he would like, but he stuck them into a Corningware to keep in the oven anyway. He and Ennis lapsed into silence, working beside one another easily. Stiles hadn’t cooked breakfast with someone else in years, and it was nice to have company during the quiet stillness of the morning. 

Stiles was more than a little surprised that neither the twins nor Cora had woken up yet, as close to the kitchen as they were, and he felt along his bonds. His dad and Peter were up, and so was Deucalion, though Stiles was thankful for the privacy he had been given. He reached out toward Deuc, tugging along the bond to get the man moving.

He was humming as he mixed up more pancake batter. The shower had started shortly after he urged Deucalion to come downstairs, and he could hear his dad and Peter moving around in their room. He only turned around when he heard someone step into the kitchen, and he was shocked to see Kali standing there. He couldn't feel their bond as strongly as he did the others. She was glaring strongly at him, and the sight made Stiles uncomfortable. 

“Hey, babe,” Ennis said, his smile turning into something far softer at the sight of Kali. Stiles tried for a smile too, but Kali just continued to glare at him.

“Well alright,” Stiles said, going back to watching his pancakes. It was too early for that.

* * *

Stiles was putting his plate of food onto the dining room table when Deucalion came into the room. He was quiet as he wrapped Stiles in a hug from behind, pulling him flush to his chest and pressing his face into Stiles’ neck. Stiles didn’t mind the affection one bit, and he leaned back against his Alpha

“You’re wearing my shirt,” Deucalion said against his neck, dragging his nose across Stiles’ skin. 

Stiles smiled, pleased at the reaction he was getting. “It’s soft.”

Deucalion hummed his agreement, and he continued to rub his face into Stiles’ neck. His stubble scraped pleasantly at Stiles’ skin and he didn’t protest when Deucalion slipped his hands under the shirt Stiles had on. Deucalion’s hands were warm where they rested on his belly, and Stiles didn’t want to move.

“Hands off my underaged son, Deucalion,” John said as he walked into the room, his stern sheriff’s glare full of disapproval. Stiles missed Deucalion’s heat when he stepped away.

“Ah, let them be, John,” Peter said as he followed, carrying four foldable chairs which he attempted to arrange around the small table. “His hands were above the waist.”

Stiles sent a smile Peter’s way before pressing a kiss to his dad’s cheek. He sat next to Deucalion at the dining room table; they were pressed together from shoulder to thigh with the way the chairs were crammed together. The pack filtered in with their own plates, Ennis putting one down in front of Deucalion, as they tried to force themselves into the seats Peter had brought up.

It was a tight fit, but eventually they managed to all grab a seat—except for Kali, who seemed to prefer standing broodily by the door. Ennis had offered both his chair and his lap to her, but she did nothing but glare him down. The room was quiet as they began to eat. Stiles didn’t want to buy into stereotypes, but the wolves sure could eat.

“Breakfast is good,” John said. Stiles could tell just how much he was trying—to accept Stiles’ new pack, letting so many people into his home, dealing with his and Deuc’s relationship—and Stiles appreciated it more than he knew how to say.

“Ennis did most of it, actually,” Stiles told him, smiling at the man.

“He usually does the cooking,” Ethan added, and Ennis’ own face curved into a smile.

It wasn’t long after that they finished, though no one made a move to leave the table at first. John and Peter were talking quietly together, and Cora and Ethan were chatting with each other. The quiet buzz of noise was welcome, so different than the silence Stiles had long since grown used to. Deuc had an arm draped over his chair, and Stiles leaned back into it, shooting Deuc a smile when he began playing with the sleeve of Stiles’ shirt. 

“As much as we appreciate the hospitality you have shown us, it is clear that we are beginning to overstay our welcome,” Deucalion said when there was a lull in the other conversations, and he gestured to the crowded dining room.

“I don’t mind you all here. It’s been…nice, having the house so full,” John said, and Stiles looked at his dad with a smile. 

“And we thank you, Sheriff. But we need to find someplace to settle down. Stiles has two years left of school in this town, and it wouldn’t hurt to get Cora and the twins back into school,” Ennis spoke up, nodding to the three teens.

“I guess that makes sense,” John said. “Do you have their papers in order?”

“We have what we need.”

“You’re planning on taking over the land, then?” Peter asked. There was a sharpness to the question that Stiles hadn’t been expecting.

“Only if you would willingly give me your claim. I know the land is yours, despite your status, and I don’t want to take that from you unwillingly,” Deucalion told him and inclined his head.

“Wait,” Stiles sad, sitting up in interest. “Wouldn't the land be Derek’s? He’s the Hale Alpha.”

“I never  _ abandoned  _ it,” Peter spat the word, his lip curling back into something akin to a snarl. 

“I know you only submitted to me because of Stiles, but I would like to be your Alpha, Peter,” Deucalion said. Stiles felt bad—he had never stopped to think about what submitting to Deucalion would be like for Peter. He would have to talk to him. “We are a strong pack with two blood Hales. I would do right by the territory.”

“Well, I would rather give the land to my own Alpha than to my nephew,” Peter scoffed, sounding as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What does…handing over the territory involve?” Stiles couldn't quite keep the excitement out of his voice. “Oh, is it magic!?”

“Yes, darling. There is a ritual you will have to perform,” Deucalion told him quietly, though he smiled when Stiles bounced excitedly in his seat.

“Where do you plan on moving?” John asked, voice tense, and Stiles figured it was because of the endearment. 

“I haven’t begun to look yet. We would need lots of space, for the pack we have now and in case the pack ever expands further,” Deucalion told him, seeming unfazed by John’s hard tone.

“You could just buy out several floors of an apartment building; you have the money for it,” Stiles suggested, leaning back into Deuc’s space and sending his dad a glare.

“And how do you know our budget?” Deuc asked.

“Oh please, I’ve seen all of your bank accounts.”

“How?” Cora asked, staring at Stiles with wide eyes.

“Oh,” Stiles began, wiggling his fingers in the air, letting enough magic bleed through that sparks flew around them, “that’s a secret.”

* * *

After breakfast, Ennis and Peter disappeared together. Stiles didn’t think much of it—he’d been doing his own bonding with the pack, and he was happy to see Peter making an effort to get to know his new packmates. He had been too caught up in himself and the changes happening to his life to properly think about what Peter might have been going through, and Stiles couldn’t help but feel guilty.

Peter had been his first packmate, had been his  _ Beta _ , and Stiles had been neglecting him without even realizing it. Peter had stood by him when Stiles least expected him to, when no one else had, carving a place for himself in Stiles’ life. Not only was he pack, but he was dating his dad,  _ living _ with them now, and Stiles was quickly considering him a parental figure.

And Stiles hadn’t bothered to see how he was doing. So much had happened in only a couple of days, and Stiles felt like his life had been turned upside down without the time to process it. He had been so busy that he hadn't let the gravity of it all hit him, and now—now he felt like he could hardly breathe.

Stiles felt like he was  _ drowning _ , finally letting his mind catch up with all that had happened to him. He breathed as deeply as he could and tried to settle his mind. He hadn’t given himself the time to meditate in too long, and it seemed to have caught up with him. He tried for another deep breath, doing his best to push down the sudden wave of panic before it got to be too much.

He tried to quiet his mind, and focused on his breathing until he could take a full breath. Stiles felt unsettled, wrongfooted, as he tried to sort through everything that had happened since Sunday. Slowly, as the panic settled and he continued to calm down, he was able to breathe. He tried to get a handle on the fact that he was now the _Emissary_ to the _Alpha_ _pack_.

The realization—as delayed as it was—made something like pride swell in his chest. Stiles had felt confident in the gains he’d been making in his magical studies, but this was so much more than that. This, his position as Emissary, was proof of that—proof that he was strong, that he could take care of himself, protect himself.

With a newfound confidence, Stiles inhaled again, pulling at his spark and letting it rise under his skin. Now, it was as easy to quiet his mind as it was to breathe without panic pushing at his lungs. He let himself get lost in his own magic, mind calming to nothing but a quiet hum. 

His magic felt restless with disuse, and Stiles focused on flexing it, pulling and pushing until it began to calm. It was as bright as ever inside him, and it felt overjoyed to be free. Stiles let it swell around him, could feel how it was lifting the furniture in his room in an attempt to tire itself out.

Now that his magic was in use, Stiles took the moment to brush it along his wards. He could still feel where they originated from, the power that the symbols he had painted into his front door held. His magic blossomed out from there, spider-webbing around the whole house. He pushed his spark into the threads magic surrounding the house, watching in his mind's eyes as the webbed dome that sat over his house grew solid, more and more tendrils of magic overlapping.

He could feel the finality as the wards set in, but they felt…different. There was a red tinge to his magic that had never been there before. It wasn’t hard to guess that it was the added power from the Alpha pack bleeding into his own magic. It was beautiful, the soft pink that his magic now was, and he wondered if that would be the colour his eyes glowed, the next time he called upon his spark.

Stiles spent some more time on the wards, feeling them out and making sure all the Alphas had free access to the house. He was a little surprised to find that they all already did. He must have subconsciously altered the wards, or the wards altered themselves when he submitted to Deucalion, but either way he didn’t have to do anything to grant his pack access.

With his magic humming under his skin, Stiles continued to float in his own consciousness. He already felt more settled, comfortable in his skin. He hadn’t realized just how restless his spark had been until it was quiet.

When he finally came back to himself, he wasn’t surprised to find Peter watching him. He had felt it when the wolf entered his room, though he had been busy focusing on coming back to himself. Stiles stretched, sending a smile Peter’s way as he moved back to sit against the headboard.

“Did you know that you glow, when you do that?” Peter asked, walking further into the room and settling himself cross-legged on Stiles’ bed.

“I know my eyes glow, sometimes,” Stiles said.

“It is quite the sight,” Peter added with a soft smile, and their pack bond was warm with Peter’s pride.

“I wanted to…apologize?” Stiles said after a moment of silence, not entirely sure just what he wanted to say.

“Whatever for?” 

“I haven’t been there for you lately. Not like I should have been. Not like pack,” Stiles told him, reaching out and squeezing Peter’s knee.

Peter just huffed, rolling his eyes as if Stiles was being ridiculous. “Oh please. I am a grown man, Stiles. I am quite alright.”

“Still, I’m sorry. And, thank you for following me. You had no reason to, but it—it means a lot,” Stiles said, smiling when Peter covered his hand with his own. “So, how are you doing? What do you think of the pack?”

“I…don’t mind them. It is great to have Cora back, especially to have her in my pack. Ennis seems to be alright, though I can’t say I’m a fan of Kali.”

“Where did you guys disappear to, anyway?” Stiles asked.

“We were house hunting. Apartment hunting, rather.”

“Oh, they took my suggestion seriously?” Stiles asked, smiling to himself. 

“Stiles, of course Deucalion took your suggestion seriously,” Peter said with an eyeroll.

“What? What do you mean ‘of course’?” 

“It’s clear that he sees you as his mate, Stiles,” Peter told him, chuckling when Stiles blushed.

“We’ve talked about the bond a little, but he never said…” 

“He probably wouldn’t, not with you being so young,” Peter said, and Stiles frowned.

“I know Kali is Ennis’ mate, but what does that mean?”

“Really, it’s a lot like marriage, just without the option for divorce. A mating is a ceremony tying two people together. When two wolves mate, or a wolf and a human, a bond is formed. It’s stronger than a pack bond,  _ more _ . You feel them on a deeper level.” Peter explained, giving Stiles a knowing look. “It’s easier to feel what they’re feeling, sometimes to the point where you can…communicate, almost. You can get a sense of where they are if you need to.”

“M-marriage?” Stiles asked, his voice cracking as he repeated what Peter said in his head.

“Only if he were to bite you, Stiles. Even if his wolf recognizes you as a mate, it doesn't mean you have to be with him or that you owe him anything,”

“But…what would it be like for him? If I wasn’t with him?” Stiles couldn’t help the worry that bled into his tone. He didn’t want to hurt Deucalion, even indirectly.

“Wolves can recognize more than one person as their mate, Stiles. It just means there is potential there. That Deucalion’s wolf recognizes you as a good match, and is both emotionally and physically attracted to you.” 

“So he’ll be fine?” Stiles asked, having to make sure.

“If you two weren't together, he could become irritable. It would be grating on his wolf to have you so close and not be able to claim you like it wanted to. But he wouldn't be in any sort of pain,” Peter said, smiling at him.

“How do you know?”

“I am very well educated, Stiles. And besides, it’s something we are taught while we go through puberty.”

“So, uhm, did you have a mate?” Stiles asked, though he cringed the moment he realized just what type of memories the question could bring up.

“No, I never did. Actually, your father is my mate,” Peter told him, though he wouldn’t meet Stiles’ eyes as he spoke.

“That’s awesome!” Stiles said, his face splitting into a smile.

“It is?” Peter asked, his head tilted to the side like a puppy.

“Of course!” Stiles said, though he found himself getting emotional, eyes burning as his chest went tight.

“I—you’re crying?”

“Because I’m happy,” Stiles told him. He crawled forward until he was sitting sideways in Peter’s lap. When the wolf didn't do anything, Stiles took Peter’s arms and wrapped them around his own waist, hugging Peter back.

Peter chuckled into his hair, but his voice was thick when he spoke. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” Stiles told him, and he meant it. He had no idea when Peter became family, but he wasn’t going to let go of him now that he was.

“I love you too, pup,” Peter told him, tightening his arms and finally returning the hug.

“You’re going to have to ask him to marry you,” Stiles said, nuzzling into Peter’s chest. “He won’t do it himself. Didn’t even ask my mom.”

Peter hummed at that, though he didn’t say anything. He was still rubbing his nose through Stiles’ hair, but Stiles didn’t mind the cuddling. He figured he should have felt a little uncomfortable in the positions they were in, but he had always been rather tactile, and he knew how much wolves craved touch. 

Besides, Peter was warm, and was great at cuddling, and Stiles couldn’t help the smile that broke out over his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really, really hoping to be able to pump out chapter 12 around all the business I have this month. Fingers crossed that I can get it done by the beginning of August!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


End file.
